George Shelley Fanfic
by Dockers
Summary: Frankie is lucky enough to be welcomed into the XFactor studios as a dancer, she knows it will bring big things for her. But she wasn't expecting to meet a charming contestant who may just be too perfect to believe... (UnionJ included in the story : Josh, Jaymi, JJ)
1. Chapter 1

"Okay guys, welcome to the xfactor studios, you're very lucky to be here, please remember that. We don't tolerate slackers and un-appreciative members. You've been warned", asserts a stern, ageing woman in what seems to be a juicy couture, matching orange tracksuit and sparkly silver uggs. Devastatingly un co-ordinated for our "Team authoritive : Julie" as so it states on her badge.

I glance around at the rest - a group of young, primarily female dancers. Everyone looked rather star struck, maybe it was this foul creature before us but to be honest, I'm sure we were all just nervous. I was particularly nervous. Training, auditioning and practising for 3 years has all come down to this: being one in 25 of the 2012 xfactor dancers. And I was un-conditionally excited.

"You come to me with any problems and issues. If they're not brought up, I will do nothing about it. We're all sophisticated employees now, I don't expect you to behave in a childish manor" she scanned us with stern, drooping eyes. I couldn't then help but notice her awkwardly pencilled on eyebrows which assumed every facial expression of hers was angry.

"Now, head down these steps" as her brows lead the direction "and meet Melanie my executive. She will mentor you from here until tomorrow morning. You must be up and in the main hall for 8am sharp. I expect you all to be there on time or there _will_ be consequences."

Her face created an eerie smile "ok, you may be dismissed".

What is this, a boarding school or the magic that seemed to be show business?

The stairs led us through nauseatingly small hallways with identical black doors either side until we came to a wide clearing welcomed by a grinning brunette, who I assumed was Melanie. She enthusiastically positioned herself in the middle of our group.

We went through security checks, rules, timings and bedroom arrangements.

I'm sharing a 9th floor room consisting of 2 other girls – Tillie and Melissa.

They're both extremely gorgeous.

Tillie with long sleek black hair, piercing brown eyes and Merissa with short waved blonde hair and blue eyes.

It's rather ironic really as I have medium curly brown hair and green eyes which makes us all unique.

None the less, they're both so lovely and social, I'm sure we'll get along.

I was curious to explore this new found home of ours, so excused myself from the bedroom and explored the rest of the hotel. Apparently floors 13+ are reserved for A-list celebrities, so is out of bounds. But that doesn't mean I can't explore floor 10-12 right?

The elevator is spacious and explicitly clean with surrounding mirrors, I press a golden button entitled floor 10 as it shoots upwards and arrives within seconds.

To my distress, the floor is identical to ours, must be for the male dancers I suppose. I'll come back to that...

So jam the button for floor 11.

The doors open, presenting a sleek hallway with double doored rooms and exotic plants lining the walls. This is definitely not for the dancers.

Maybe presenters, like Olly Murs? Oh my, don't get ahead of yourself Frankie. I always build things up to be extravagant and then it all tumbles down.

Instead I decide to step out into the wonderland hallway and towards the end, finished by an ostentatious little balcony.

The brutally cold air pierces my exposed skin, I would surrender back into the warmth but it's so beautiful.

Colours of green, blue, pink and yellow in forms of flowers, trees and bushes present themselves to me.

The sound of a busy London street echo's in the background but wild insects buzz through the air, able for me to hear. I explore the garden before me and enter what seems to be an abandoned green house as most of the plant life is over grown yet still splendidly beautiful. Then in the distance I spot a spiralling, iron staircase which hurdles out through the top of the green house.

My prurience gets the better of me so I have to explore it.

It spirals so high, I'm anxious it has no end, but I still climb staring at my feet, careful not to trip up or fall back.

Suddenly, I bellow into a figure in front and lapse out a cry of fright.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry", my heart pounding at the unexpected shock, still staring at my feet.

"No, no, it's my fault for standing at the opening of a staircase. Only I've never met another person here before" a deep, charming male voice answers me.

I look up anxiously. A smouldering, curly chocolate haired boy with oozing dark eyes and a melting, dimpled grin stares back at me.

I must be drooling like a love struck school girl by the look of worry on his face.

He uses his finger to lift my face up to his. "Are you okay?" he asks apprehensively.

I stutter "uh, yeh." I pause "I'm just a little shocked that's all. I was in my own world you could say".

"Well I'm sorry to have interrupted you" he laughs slightly.

I smile back, shyly.

"So, I'm George Shelley. You mustn't be a contestant, or I would've met you already? Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right. I'm Frankie, a dancer." I put a hand out with a smile, "nice to meet you."

His soft and agile hand grips mine.

"It's nice to meet you too".


	2. Chapter 2

We're all down in the hall in time, which isn't surprising because of the mark Julie left on us but I can't help but notice a few unfamiliar faces, there's definitely a lot more people here than yesterday.

None the less, all the dancers are sitting in the same row, so I settle next to Merissa.

Julie and Melanie are giving us a pep talk and apparently we'll be starting our rehearsals with a member of the live shows today. Somehow I hope I don't end up with George, I don't even know if he's a soloist or in a band… I'd be mortified to have to dance in front of him.

Speaking of the devil… in the corner of my eye, a cheekily grinning, chocolate haired boy is facing in my direction.

I flash my head to the side, trying not to be obvious but when he catches me glimpsing at him, I can't help but blush. He pushes one of his loose curls back behind his ear and flashes me a libidinous smile before Merissa pokes me in the side.

"Hey, I heard there's a really hot group called UnionJ. Do you think we'll get to dance with them?" as she winks at me.

"Do you know any members' names?" I reply

"Uh, not really. But I know they all begin with a J or G… Maybe we'll get a sneak peak of them later"

"Yeah… Maybe."

….

"Hey Frankie, we're going to the canteen, you coming?" A grinning Tillie asks.

"Um, no I can't. Promised my mum ill call her this morning. I'll see you in rehearsals."

I enter the lift, and prod floor 9.

The doors are closing when I hear a sudden deep shout of "Hold the lift!" So I shoot my foot into the almost enclosed gap.

"Well, fancy seeing you here" laughs a flustered George as a macho arm reaches over me to press floor 11.

"Are you sure you're not just stalking me?" I joke

He laughs and anxiously stares at his feet.

"Oh don't flatter yourself" he smirks as I playfully slap his arm.

He's staring at me with such a blissful grin, if we weren't so unfamiliar with each other, I could easily kiss him.

All of a sudden, the lift shudders and I'm thrown towards the side and onto George's helpless, broad body.

The lift has come to a halt.

The pain of me hitting my head overcomes the realisation that I'm laying on him until I open my eyes and start laughing in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry"

"haha it's okay Frankie." He helps lift me off his body and I slump into the corner of the lift.

An intercom flashes on "Sorry for the inconvenience but we're having a few technical difficulties. Please be patient as we fix the problem and we'll get you back up in no time."

We both moan in agitation. He looks at me with those ruthless eyes and slumps himself down next to me.

"So, where're you from?"

We talk for what seems like hours, laughing, shouting, arguing and squabbling over life.

And before long I realise how close he's sitting near me. He stares at my lips as one of his hands relaxes on my knee. I examine his face momentarily: a perfectly positioned jawline lines up with poised pink lips which sit restlessly underneath his buttoned cheeks and then two oozing brown eyes with shades of minty green stare back at me.

Without hesitation or mere self-control, he leans into my face, caressing my cheek with his soft, encompassing hands and I let him.

I stroke the side of his head, feeling his perfectly waved hair on my bare skin.

A liberal, tender lip impacts mine, soothing my face and body as he continuously burrows into my heart.

His lips are still fondling mine when an alarming buzz preoccupies our faces.

My hand slumps onto his chest and his onto my knee again as our eyes find each other.

Then the intercom fuzzes on "Thank you for your patience" The lift jolts and floor 5 flashes up "we hope this wasn't inconvenient for you".

I glance at the floor and back up again.

"It's my stop soon" I announce sheepishly.

His once caressing lips form another melting smile.

I get up onto my feet, careful not to fall un-conscious because of the throttled kiss and aching pain on my head.

He grabs my hand so that I face him and he plants a kiss on my cheek.

"We should do this again sometime" he smoulders.

The lift bings and the doors swing open in a jolt.

I step out, timorous and tasting his slight sweetness on my lip. He gazes back at me as we exchange smiles and the doors shudder closed.

I can't stand but grin helplessly until Tillie and Melissa unexpectedly awaken my fantasy.

"Hey you, we've been looking all over. Where've you been?" Melissa asks.

"Well, um. Well… The lift broke. And um. It broke so, I was waiting. And I only just got out. Yeh".

They look at me with dazed confusion.

"Okay. Now tell us what really happened?" Melissa bawls with a grin.

"No really the lift did break!" I snigger.

Tillie comes over to me suspicious and stares me in the eyes.

"Melissa, she smells of boy, second me"

Melissa comes over as they both examine me, curiosity in their eyes.

"Definitely boy. Tell us everything Frankie!"

I attempt to explain the happenings of the greenhouse and in the hall then slightly under-exaggerate the lift situation: ignoring the details of the kiss. But I'm sure they get the jist.

"Oh Frankie you sneaky devil!" Cries Tillie.

"Guys, you seriously can't tell a soul. I don't want it going live and end up hurting him."

"Okay okay, we promise".


	3. Chapter 3

I'm awoken by blinding light streaming through a gap in the blind and two sniggering girls besides me.

Squinting, I turn to them and behold Merissa and Tillie with their backs to me, crouching on Tillie's bed.

Merissa senses my abundance as she looks at me conspicuously, "Morning sleepy head".

Tillie's facial grin is too eminent to ignore "What're you two doing" I ask with raised eye brows.

"Oh lower those brows. We're not the ones sneaking around ey?" she sniggers as she passes me a carefully creased piece of paper with "Frankie" neatly encrypted on top.

I open it - curiously timid to see what's revealed beneath. Of course it's slightly obvious who it's from. None the less, it's distressing.

Frankie,

I hopefully query you to join me this evening..

Where? The balcony (you know the spot)

Dress code? Smart casual

Time? 6pm

I'll be waiting,

P.S: dress warm

An unholy grin overcomes my face that's it scarcely harder to breathe.

I look up to the girls.

"Babe I think you have a stalker" Merissa winds me.

"Oh shu'up Merissa, don't scare the girl. We all know it's from Mr Shelley." Tillie teases, "So where's this secret spot on the balcony then?"

"My god, you're both such cheeks!" I say as I bundle on top of them both.

5:18pm, my clock mocks me, flashing its colon between hour and past.

Tillie and Merissa had been helping me get ready, Tillie meanwhile straightening my hair as Merissa paints my nails. We'd become so close these past few days, you'd think we'd known each other for years.

None the less, their pampering couldn't help the fact that I was bloody nervous.

Like me and George, we've known each other.. What, 3 days? And hardly had spoken except for the lift incident. I was dreadfully worried he'd think I was a right creep or I'd embarrass myself to hell. But I had to control my anguish.

5:33pm. I glare at the clock.

"Half an hour babe.. You prepared?" Merissa stares back at me, screwing the lid of the varnish.

"I don't even know."

They frown in woe.

"Cheer up, he's banging" Tillie announces as if a proud of his accomplishments.

We all shriek with laughter.

I swipe on an extra layer of red lippy and smooth out the creases in my skirt. I wear a blue - 4 strapped, heart lined belly top with a long black maxi skirt and a black blazer (for the warmth obviously) and had a chunky blue bangle hanging from my wrist.

"Right gals, help me into my shoes"

I perch on the edge of my bed and they force my delicate feet into some 3 inch, blue heels. I do love these shoes, but they're a terror to get into, especially being a dancer where my feet are the most damaged part of my body.

The mirror gapes back at me, reminding me how insecure I am. Merissa and Tillie are urgent to remind me how "stunning" I look but I'm sure they're seeing different things to me.

It'll do I 'spose.

They give me an assuring hug and send me on my way.

"Just remember Frankie. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen" Merissa squeals just before my exit.

The cold frosty air and dark gloomed sky hits me with such a force that I'm almost certain George has gone crazy expecting us to stay out all evening.

But none the wiser, I venture out into the frost bitten balcony-garden, mindful to dodge any frozen patches that could slip me up.

But before long, an eerie orange glow ascends through the misted, ageing greenhouse windows.

Lit tea lights set the path, curling round rows of plants and garden objects which I assume George had laid. A clearing welcomes me to the door of the greenhouse.

I enter the door and am aghast at the raptured paradise before me.

He's emptied the greenhouse, replacing the soiled, damp floor with picnic blankets and pillows which are surrounded by tea lights.

Then fairy lights hang delicately round the ceiling walls lighting up the room to a dim romantic level, he's even created some bouquets of daisies and pansies in stone vases in the corners of the greenhouse.

And to my right, the spiralled staircase has been cleaned and stands hung with even more fairy lights and decorative rose vines which lead up to the ceiling and into the unknown.

Full of content and surprise, I forget I'm alone until a pair of cold hands suddenly seizes my waste tenderly and his broad merciful body hugs mine from behind.

I lean my head into the right of his chest and reach up with my arm to cease his jaw.

He twirls me round handsomely into his arms until we are merely centre meters apart.

He's staring right into my soul. Again.

We're slowly edging towards each other's lips.

I can smell his masculine, sweet fragrance dripping from his skin, affecting my breathing insanely.

Him approaching me, being so close, it's unbearable.

The chemistry I feel. His body I feel. The pure velocity of the situation I feel is over whelming.

I embrace his being and decide to dedicate this kiss to Merissa. Her voice hangs in my mind "treat him mean, keep him keen" and on that note, I slip my head to the side and send him a gracious peck on the cheek before turning to face the other way tediously.

I hear him snigger to himself at my abrupt exit.

"Thank you for coming".

I turn round and respond with an engaging smile.

"You look beautiful".

I feel myself blush and stare at my feet sheepishly then walk over to him.

"And you Mister." I pull his collar up and neaten the little bow tie he majestically models "look very cute".

He creases a grin as wide as I've seen and grabs my hand gently.

Then, he leads me to the floor of the greenhouse, closing the door slowly behind him…

**Little Authors note.**

**If you're reading/have read up to here, I want to say a big thank you because it's really great knowing I have people that really want to read my fanfic **

**And I will be updating real soon because the end of this chapter is sort of mid-point of their date which I'm sure is quite anticipating.**

**So yes thank you for reading and btw, don't feel you can't comment, I like seeing people's feedback and e.g: ideas I could use for the next chapters or later on so don't be afraid to comment on what you think so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

I can't help but feel a little nauseous and apprehensive, after all, he did just lead me into a deserted greenhouse full of candles and cushions which I suppose could mean anything. Like anything.

None the less, I don't want a commotion so keep it to myself.

He perches next to me and intertwines my legs with his so that we're simply embracing each other's personal space. Just then, his right arm adjusts a position on the floor behind my back in order to keep his torso up and so that I have no option but to slender into his arms.

Next thing I know, his left hand is caressing my knee to inner thigh through the body-hugging fabric of my skirt.

Any closer north and I may have to butt in here.

Our lips interlock, triggering the metaphorical sparks and fireworks of emotion.

The lenient, embracing touch of his skin upon my skin is somewhat adequate. Each lunge of his stroke to my leg and my dwindling into his body feels subsequently irresistible as tingles of comfort over power my body.

It's as if I could let him do anything to me and not be ashamed.

In a sudden glisten, his i-pod rouses into life, blaring out Justin Timberlake's old tracks just as hails of rain jam into the greenhouse ceiling.

This doesn't sojourn us.

His touch is stronger now, lips poised and hungry.

Liable for my own breathing, the realisation that I hadn't inhaled in a while summoned me to an emergency gasp which suddened George.

"Sorry, got a bit ahead of myself" George stares at me whilst biting his lip seductively.

I laugh uncomfortably, partly because of the mortification that I had to end our kiss with a gasp and partly because his voluptuous lip biting is driving me crazy.

"You have no reason to apologise" I reply sheepishly. "I'm sorry I interrupted you" I tease.

"Cheeky" He grins whilst leaning back to stare up to the battered ceiling which could at any time collapse.

"I was going to show you something on the roof but it's slightly inappropriate weather now…" he proclaims.

"You're such a pussy!" I shout piercingly.

"Oh really?! I was actually thinking of you and your hair" George chortles.

I look at him mischievously. "Remove your hand from my thigh Mr Shelley, I have a disposition to attend to" I laugh cheekily.

He removes it placing his hands up as if under police demand - "do as you wish Ma'am", instructing me to the other side.

I struggle onto my knees and kick off my shoes – with a sluggish pace of course and sprint to the staircase using the handle bar to swing round to the entrance.

I blow him a kiss and cock my leg into the air just before running up and out into an icy waterfall.

The rain pellets my face like an invisible army and being so high up only amplifies the force. However, it's refreshing and comforting experiencing a cool moist chill throttling down my body, sending shudders through my spine.

I embrace it, twirling into each droplet with glee.

After a few spins, I sense George around me as our hands glide into each others' and I'm once again in his humble frame.

I lean into the side of his face and whisper "see, it's not that bad".

He locks his face to the side after that and pulls me in close.

Slowly, his hands rise down my back, fondling my waste and the side of one hip as his lips violently attack my cheek making a path down to my neck.

I grab his dampened hair, kneading each curl into my hand.

-I tick off "kissing in the rain" from my imaginary check list-

However, he's kissing lower and lower until cautiously close to my northern lights.

I replace my hand from his curls to his chin and direct it upwards to engage his eyes.

The enchanting chocolate brown shade of his engulfs mine.

"Is everything okay?" he questions curiously.

"Yeah. Yeah don't worry."

He grabs my hand "come on. Seeing as we're here now…" his hand is damp and lax but still manages to produce an unbarring tingling sensation.

We're running over metal bridges which position on top of the greenhouse - intertwining with each other like a shrubbery maze.

Abruptly, he stops and swivels round to me placing his finger to my lips then directing my eye lids down but still holding one hand.

He leads ahead, directing me from behind until we come to a halt.

"Ok. Are you ready?"

I nod with anticipation.

He grabs my face with both voluptuous hands and pecks a kiss on my nose. "Open".

An astonishing view of central London paints itself in front of me.

From the left, the glimmering Thames reflects London Bridge upon its waves, joining up the London eye to my right like a dot to dot. And in-between, colossal towers anchor into the ground, surrounded by smaller, twinkling buildings as their lights shine through un-hidden windows. Yet, the beauty is not destroyed by the rain, it only adds to the atmosphere, delicately smudging my vision slightly as if an oil painting.

I feel wholly astonished, it's magnanimous.

I glare at George, astounded by his intentional journey.

"You're amazing you know" I lapse to him.

"Well, I was just exploring and when I found something beautiful, it made me think of you"

I giggle eagerly "Oh you're so cheese"

He snort-laughs enthusiastically, "Oh fine I won't compliment you anymore then".

I grin, staring back to the view.

"I think you're beautiful too" and grab his hand with a quick thrust before running back to the staircase and into shelter.

I'm shivering like an oblivious idiot, just a little regretful of going out in a November shower.

George comes over to me with a woollen blanket from a stash in the corner and wraps me in it whilst rubbing my body to keep warm.

"Sorry for giving you hyperthermia" he laughs.

"We've got to stop apologising to each other you know." I smoulder.

"Yeah, we…" he trails off, gazing into my eyes.

"I've got to be honest. You literally make me speechless." He declares.

I stare at the floor awkwardly. "Is that good or bad?" I question.

He mutters "depends" before striking me with his lips once again and massaging them into mine. I drop the blanket; heave my body into his as we both collapse onto the floor and he lays me down, kneeling on top of me; still kissing.

He lunges his hips into mine, assuring to grab every inch of waist carefully, cuddling my delicate frame as we slowly undress each other…


	5. Chapter 5

He is skinny, but broad with vast arm muscles and a clearly shown 2 pack. He's kissing my neck, seductively, lips soft with hands trailing over my body as if discovering it's secrets.

My hands are momentarily gripping onto his back, feeling his shoulder bones flex and thrive, mirroring our simultaneous body movements.

I feel his skin, smooth, like golden velvet and the heat respiring from his body leaves me feeling warm and secure.

Caught up in the moment, it doesn't occur to me until hands start tracing other areas, that I am in fact a virgin.

The frightfulness of this suddens me and I unknowingly pierce my hands into his back with fear. George jolts off my body, resting on his elbows, looking down upon my half naked frame with only a mere few inches apart.

"Wha… what's wrong?" he whispers - slightly alarmed.

I exhale with shame, unable to make eye contact.

"George look…" I start before being interrupted.

He sulks grief, "I'm too full on, aren't i?" scanning my face for any emotions. "This always happens. I scare them away". Just after saying this, he's slumped into a heap beside me, glaring up at the ceiling with shame.

I take this time to study his body.

Seeing a boy, half naked, lying next to me and actually wanting me, is un-natural, so I savour it.

He has tingy-caramel coloured skin, with only a cluster of freckles on his arms and thin, golden brown hairs scattered all over.

His body is generally broader than I had imagined, with his "man breasts" squared and poised 1cm above the rest – more so than I had first thought. And his two packs resemble another smaller one beneath.

Then below all that, he has the V lines which make me giddy inside and disappear behind a tight pair of burgundy boxer briefs from topman.

The bulge.

It rests there, staring at me, judging me. I can almost make out the separate features but decide not to make myself obvious.

Chocolate eyes gape back at me, resentful.

"Frankie I'm so sorry."

I can't help but smile slightly at his apology.

"George it's not what you think" I pause trying to avoid his eyes "I was enjoying that you know." Emphasise on the "enjoy".

"But I was just worried because… well because." I exhale briefly. He's ogling at me again, trying to read my mind with those perfect, deadly eyes. "Because I'm a _virgin_". I flutter my eyes downwards in humiliation. The only thing stopping me from running out of this greenhouse and into the hotel is the rain and my absent nudity.

There's a silence. Sharp and painful. Then an interruption of laughter.

Fuck. He's laughing at me now.

I lean up rapidly, about to grab my clothes in mortification until his embracing hands grind me down onto him once again.

I'm lying on him. On his bulge, feeling it much more now and only wearing my bra and nickers.

"Frankie"… "I don't care that you're a virgin" his smile graceful now. "You don't need to be ashamed. I've only explored it twice". He's rather embarrassed of that by the looks of it.

I still can't seem to make eye contact with him.

"Look I know I'm ready" I pause abruptly "But I just don't want you thinking that I'm going to be of a "porn star" level".

He's laughing again now, sensing his warm breath upon my nose.

"Will you stop laughing at me" I snigger, finally able to make eye contact.

He gazes into my eyes, deep now, with a straight expression. One nimble hand approaches my face and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I really like you Frankie. And I wasn't expecting sex from you. To be honest, I just wanted to embrace your body and let you explore mine. That's all I've ever really wanted from a girl. A simple touch, to feel close to someone".

I lay on him then, my head intertwined with his neck, exchanging warmth and moisture.

Just as we lay there, I realise something. Whispering, "George, I want more than closeness".

I feel him smile and kiss my forehead just before swivelling my body around so that I now lay on my back, him above.

"Are you sure?" he whispers into my ear.

I nod, unsure slightly, but I know it's the right thing to do. It's what I want.

"I'll lead you. You don't have to worry about a thing". His voice is reassuring and deep that I feel I really do trust him.

Flustered hands caress my hips as he plants kisses down from my neck to cleavage.

I feel what he wants. I unhook my bra cautiously from underneath, and then let him trail it off my breasts.

Gaping at them, I can literally hear him judging.

I feel the need to cover myself up until he flashes me a quick smile and mouths silently to me the words "beautiful".

My insecurities fade.

He plants more kisses down now, over my bellybutton and to the line of my undies.

This is it.

He glances at me reassuringly as if questioning his entrance. I nod, heart pounding.

The next few moments flutter by in seconds - a touch here and there, my bare body being fondled and played with, kissed and caressed.

Then before long, my privates, as well as Georges, are on full show, his hanging long and proud, agile above mine.

I feel the security of his palms kneading my opening before we exchange looks and I know he's about to enter.

He manoeuvres his body further up mine, so we are now face to face and his hair dangles freely, tickling my neck. An arm and set of fingers now hold my waste so my chest faces upwards, enabling him to kiss my bare stomach.

And then, he enters.

Warm and smooth, the connection sends Goosebumps down my spine, confronting all the nerves.

It's moist, so a smooth ride thankfully.

Thighs and knees bash together whilst his hips thrust to the tune of Radioactive by Magic Dragons which has now rattled onto his stereo.

I can feel him swelling up inside me, my walls breaking down onto his.

The sensation is unbearable; it sends new perceptions through my body that I've never felt before.

Still, he's clasping my waste, guiding it forward and back as he gets deeper and continues caressing my body with his succulent lips.

What seems like an eternity of pleasure, suddenly ends as we both climax and warm moisture flows through.

His head finds mine; we exchange heaving, passionate kisses, and explore each other's tongues until falling into a heavy, gratifying sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

I wake up, fully naked with only an itchy, woollen blanket covering my body. It's hard to forget the actions of last night but I did for just a second, thriving in the static heat of this greenhouse and George isn't next to me anymore, only a pile of jig sawed clothes. I struggle onto my feet, stretching my solidified muscles that had hardened overnight and wrap the blanket around me, heading for the staircase.

I didn't think he'd generally leave me in this greenhouse, in the early hours of the morning and obviously partly-naked seeing as his clothes were still here, so my only thought was that he was upstairs.

A tanned and dimpled body stands in a thick mist ahead of me that it would be impossible to see him without his bronzed glow.

As I venture closer, it's palpable to see he's only wearing his boxers, a military green top and some damp socks. He must be sopping cold seeing as it's almost below freezing out here and possibly 7 in the morning.

He turns and gazes at me as if he hasn't seen me for weeks and wanders over.

"Morning sunshine" he gestures for me to hold his hand.

I attempt to take one out of the blanket, but embarrassed encase I flash him by accident.

"Are you commando under that blanket?" he laughs blissfully.

"Maybe" I sneer embarrassed.

He lets go of my hand and swipes his top off in a quick slash, revealing his toned abs which only last night I had the pleasure of fondling. "Here, don't want you catching a cold", and hands me his top.

I smile bashfully, "thanks" it's still warm from his beaming flesh.

He's eyeing me as if waiting for me to drop the blanket right there. "Turn around then" I frown, raising my eyebrows.

"Are you still uncomfortable to show me your body even after last night?" he mopes. "I thought you'd have more respect for me than that" he laughs.

"Yes I am uncomfortable actually. I may have let you explore me last night, but it was darker then and you were naked too."

He wrinkles his forehead and just then, whips off his socks and embracing the moment, his boxers too.

I gasp stupendously, staring at it.

"Okay Mr Shelley, if you really want me to flash you, then…" I drop the blanket, cold air shaving at my skin and Goosebumps emerging. "Here you go".

He laughs hysterically and grabs my waste, to bring me into him, his forehead resting on mine.

"You look even more beautiful than last night, even if your mascara has smudged all down your face"

I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck. "Can I put your top on now?" I request.

He nods and let's go of me, helping my arms into the gaps as it tides down to reach just below my thighs. If I bent over just a mere centre meter, I'm sure I'd display everything, but it was better than being fully exposed and freezing.

He pulls his boxers up and grabs my hand again, leading me to the view of London he showed me yesterday. "I was waiting for the sunset, figured you wake up and come find me here. Good job you did."

We sit down, legs dangling above the streams of flowers and melted candles as striking rays of golden oranges and florescent reds envelope London's sky and cast a magical bright shadow across the buildings.

It's beautiful. I can see George staring at me, hoping for approval.

I place my hand on top of his, which rests on the metal we sit on.

He kisses my cheek, like velvet, caressing the skin.

I turn to kiss his lips, entwining our hands. It's such a splendid kiss, with glowing orange upon my eye lids. The moment feels as though it pauses.

A sudden thump of a door quakes us apart, my head pounding. We hear footsteps trekking towards the greenhouse and see a flash of blonde hair.

"Are you sure you saw them out here last night Miss Advecy?"

It's Julie – the stern woman who's mentoring us.

"Yes, positive. He came out before her but she followed soon after, I never saw them return back in", a girls voice replies, I don't recognise it, but it must be the voice of the blonde hair.

"Well if that is the case, and they spent all night together, there will be some serious consequences."

George and I glance concerned looks and hurry onto our feet.

"It's ok; they can't get into the greenhouse unless someone from the inside opens it. So we'll wait them out". George utters.

There's a struggling yank which sounds like it's coming from the greenhouse door.

"I doubt they'd be in here, it hasn't been touched for years. Dirty little place". Julie's voice sounds sore and tired.

"But where else would they be? I came out to inspect last night and I thought I heard music from inside. There's no other option". The girls voice echoes.

"Maybe they did go in there last night but they wouldn't have stayed out. It would be freezing and that greenhouse is horrible – when I find them I'll have a talk." Julie replies.

"But, that's…" the girl roars. Julie cuts her off, "Go back to your dorm Eliza; you have to be ready in an hour for this morning's rehearsal."

Eliza. Definitely don't recognise her, but it appears George does by the look on his face.

"What is it George, who is she?" I ask apprehensively.

He winces at me then stares at the floor. "I don't know."

I know he's lying. He knows her.

**Sorry it's a short chapter but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting much longer, so i'm already starting chapter 7 and it'll be up asap! And remember - don't be afraid to comment and tell me how you think it's going :-) thanks**


	7. Chapter 7

I run into the dorm, struggle on a clean shirt and some skinny jeans, throwing George's clammy top onto my bed and gale down the 9 flights of stairs to the main hall.

George said he'd follow a while after me so that it's not obvious we were late together, somehow, I don't think it'd make it any less obvious. People were noticeably starting to realise we had a "thing" going on, especially this girl Eliza. And if Julie knew what we had been doing last night, I would, if not George too, be kicked out indefinitely.

When I get there, Tillie and Merissa have saved me a space at the back, giving me the opportunity to sneak in quietly and sit down without a commotion. They must've known I'd appear eventually.

"Where've you been?" Merissa snivels.

"Words been going round that you and George spent all last night together. We thought you returned later but woke up and you weren't there. This is very risky Frankie."

I sigh. "I know. It was risky and yes we did spend the night together…" I pause tersely, contemplating lying to them about it or not.

"And…?" Tillie squeals.

I stare at her anxiously – "And, nothing happened, we just fell asleep that's all".

I look away hoping they don't sense my inscrutable body language.

They're still glaring at me, figuring out what to do next until a microphone screams on just as George scrambles into the row ahead of us.

Our eyes catch for just a second; he looks just as anxious as me but knowing we're in the same position, keeps me at ease.

Julie clears her throat. "Good morning everyone. Today we will be doing something a little different. At first we were going to continue with rehearsals in the chosen groups but I'd like to switch things up a little. If you'd like to check the list outside corridor A4 after this meeting then you'll find your newly assigned group and rehearsal room. I will be monitoring everyone's progress throughout the day to ensure I have chosen correctly."

Her voice sounds just as exhausted as last night.

"And may I also remind you of the strict rule regarding sexual orientation within the XFactor grounds. I do not expect that you should be so associated with these sorts of actions whilst working under my wing so there's no possible reason to do so…"

I feel as though her eyes flash at me for second but it might just be the rapid nauseous-ness that has suddenly hit me.

"Thank you, that is all." She stampedes off the stage and hurdles down the aisle towards the back double doors behind me.

I stumble onto my feet, a pounding feeling in my skull. The floor becomes indescribably murky as if I'm standing in a puddle of wool and the world around me revolves in slow motion. Tillie and Merissa seem to be staring at me disorientated and mouthing something but all I can hear are faint echoes and the thudding of blood rushing to my head.

Next thing I know, everything is black.

…

My body is stiff and hot; sweat petting the creases in my back.

I'm in a small, pale room, lying on a taut mattress, cars faintly pass by in the background.

It smells like disinfectant and bandages. The smell reminds me of a time when I broke my leg as a little girl, my dad had to carry me through A&E, demanding that I was plastered up immediately. The smell never really left me with good memories.

Peering round, the light suggests that it must be midday-ish. How long was I out? I must've fainted and knocked myself into a sleep or something.

I reach up to my head, there's no bandage - only a mop of greasy hair.

There's a hideous shriek outside the door, a deep, handsome voice. George.

"No sir, I'm afraid she's not in a stable position to see anyone yet. You know she has mild concussion so too much disruption could cause a serious migraine."

"But, I've been waiting for three days to see her. You won't even let me watch her sleeping? I want to be there when she wakes up."

He sounds husky and completely fatigue.

"I'm sorry, come back tomorrow and we'll see how she's doing."

No. He can't leave now. I need to see him.

I'm weak and my head still thumps but I manage to heave my body up and onto my feet. The coldness of the floor is sharp on my body which hasn't moved since the incident.

I tremble open the door. There's a narrow hallway with chairs on only one side which lead up to a mirrored door. George is standing there, about to leave, with the nurse behind him.

"George" I try to shout but my voice hisses, probably from not using it for days. I try again "George, wait!" It's louder now.

He inches round, full of anticipation. "Frankie, my god, what're you doing." He jolts the nurse out of the way and runs down towards me before embracing me in his arms.

I'm a mixture of hot and cold but his body makes me a steady warm and I feel secure.

"They told me you were still asleep. I was so worried you were never going to wake up." He sounds like he's on the edge of tears.

I try to laugh. "I just woke now and heard you arguing to see me. What happened?"

"I'm not sure really. All I saw was you trying to get out of the hall on Monday and you sort of collapsed. Hit your head on a chair coming down, you've been asleep for 3 days."

I berry my head in his chest.

"You don't understand how scared you made me." He shrieks.

The mirrored door opens slightly and a blonde girl wearing a tight pair of leather leggings and a loose, cleavage exposing top strolls in.

"George, Julie's outside, she wants to talk to you."

He lets go of me nippily, straightening out his crimpled top, but still facing my way. "What're you doing here?"

"I was worried about you, running out of the studios to see some girl. They told you they'd tell you when you could visit. So I told Julie and now she wants to talk."

"Not that." His voice is unyielding now. "Why are you here, part of the XFactor? I told you what would happen if we crossed paths again."

There's no reply.

"Why are you here Eliza?!" He's shouting.

"Because I love you, and I know you love me too."


	8. Chapter 8

It's been 12 days since my incident. Almost two weeks. Two weeks of an empty, hormonal-temperature hospital room. George hasn't visited me since I woke and without an explanation why. All I remember is that girl telling him she loved him. He left soon after, speechlessness overtaken and the nurse had to call someone to drag him out.

What if he's decided to forget about me, ignore what we had and re-assign himself with her? I don't even know their history and to be honest, I don't want to know.

My mum came to visit the other day with Tillie and Merissa. I daren't ask them where he is because for all they know, we kissed once and went on a date which ended with us falling asleep. If I got kicked out for "canoodling", it would be the end of my dancing career for sure.

And George for that matter… who knows what would happen to him.

But none the less, my doctor said I'm in a fit condition to leave tomorrow morning, so it's all I can do to keep myself occupied meanwhile and try to forget about George.

There's a knock on my door.

"May I come in?" a familiar voice of my nurse – Kate, flutters through the door folds as her head appears round the corner. She has long, gracious eye lashes and a sugary voice. She's a bit older than me and almost as small but not enough that I feel too old in her care.

"You're looking well" she smiles. "I thought you might like to have a wash seeing as it's been a few days and you're leaving tomorrow."

I nod. I haven't looked in a mirror for what seems like weeks so the velocity of my appearance isn't on my mind. I can imagine a thick layer of hair goring to my face and the rest of it sticking up at un-imaginable angles whilst my cheeks fluster a violent red which is usual when I don't care for them.

The shower is exceedingly warm but the soap they gave me smells too bacterial and sleek, so I don't stay in for long.

Kate has replaced my old bedding clothes with a cream, cotton towel which she usually would help me dry with but I suppose she trusts me now that I'm stable. None the less, she forgot about the fact that I have to somehow make it across the hall in just a towel, whilst nurses and patients roam freely.

I peer round the door, wait for an elderly man to turn the corner in the distance, and trudge outwards, quickly pacing. My parched feet scream on the similarly dry, tiled floor which echoes off the walls as I troop into my room, breathless.

My hair, sopping, makes moist trails down my face and shoulders like snail paths and my feet now feel melodramatically cold.

There's a sudden, girlish snigger behind me that sends chills through my body. I wince in shock and turn around.

It's her. Eliza. The girl who came for George.

She's glaring at me with a devious smile, her long, golden hair curling in slightly at the ends. She stands up as if introducing herself to me for the first time but instead of shaking my hand she comes face to face with me, nose to nose. I can feel her judging me, laughing at my pasty, bare skin.

She groans in a low voice "I wonder what he ever _saw_ in you". Saw – past tense.

"I mean, you're pale, short, red in the face, your hair is average length. Nothing special. Nothing like he described."

"George?" I question with a whisper.

She laughs, pruning her lips like a trout.

"Yes. _George_" she exenterates the way she says George as if I pronounce his name like a child.

There's a silence as we scowl at each other in glee.

"What are you doing here?_ Eliza_." I whisper her name, in spite of saying it out loud.

"Oh, well if you really want to know, I came to tell you that your position as a dancer for the show is threatened." She stares at me now as if questioning my response. She starts to circle me and as she reaches my naked back, whispers right beside my ear "I know what you did honey. Just keep that in mind."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." I snarl at her.

"Don't play innocent sweetie. I would run to tell Jennie right now but there is the question of George. You see, I don't want you talking to him anymore, you understand? If you do, I'll go telling all your little friends about the night in the greenhouse and then we'll see where that gets you. Ok?"

She comes, closer, facing me now. "Ok?" she repeats, this time, sterner.

I don't want to agree. She can't take George from me. What is she going to do, blackmail him too? But I can't risk it. Not now I've come this far.

I mime ok and at that, she leaves, slamming the door behind her without another word.

She knows what we did that night and she's going to use it against me at whatever cost, and I can't even talk to George about it.

It's nice to finally get out of this hospital, to feel the courteous gust of wind on my bare neck. I hugged Kate goodbye and she told me she'd look out for me on the live shows - if I manage to get on this week that is. We had grown quite close these past few days.

Merissa greets me – telling me how Tillie has discovered a District 3 boy and she's completely smitten so they're going central today.

"How's everyone doing?" I ask, hopeful she talks about George.

"Same old, same old, why, do you miss us?" she teases.

I ogle, "Course I did. 2 weeks in that hospital was more than enough time away!"

"Mhmm. You sure you didn't just miss George?" There's something serious in her tone now.

"What makes you say that Merissa?" I grin.

"You know what I mean you ninny. I heard he came to visit?"

I sigh, "Yeah. It was ages ago though."

She looks at me concerned. I know I won't like what she says next.

"Look Frankie. There's this new girl. We heard she was friends with George before the shows and well, they're really close now. I'm sure she fancies him completely, but it's hard to tell with George." She pauses, blocking her eyes from the sun that has now emerged. "I just thought I'd warn you. It might be a bit of a shock."

Of course she's talking about Eliza. No doubt she's had her hands wrapped round him for the past few days whilst I suffered in silence. "I understand. Thank you for telling me though"

As we enter the bronzed, hotel doors, the majority of dancers whom I've become close with before my accident are there to welcome me. They smile with dimpled cheeks and I embrace their warm hugs. It's nice to know I'm appreciated.

While I'm mentored and savaged about if I need help to my room, I see George and Eliza, locked in arms, paddling down the stairs in front of me. He looks rather awkward, a bored facial expression whilst hers is glowing and broad. It's not until they both spot me that their faces exchange and switch.

As I catch his gaze, he looks excited to see me for a split second but it's soon gone and he flutters his eyes down and around, where they meet Eliza's.

She takes his hand now, glaring at me as she does so. They leave the room, for the canteen.

Just before the doors close, George looks back at me swiftly, anger in his stare.

The door shuts.


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't the fact that Eliza was now a dancer that confused me most, not the fact that he held her hand and let her lead, not even the fact that he looked at me courteously for just a second until it disappeared. It was the fact that he had such anger in his eyes. It was an anger I've only ever seen once on him.

It was when I hardly knew him, the day we first met in fact. I'd never told anyone this, but before I explored the different floor levels, I went downstairs to get a drink and saw him talking to Jennie. His face was soaked with tears and I think I overheard something about how she was denying him the privilege of seeing his family on our day off – he lives too far away. The tears turned into anger and he stormed off, out the opposing door. I returned to our dorm, about to tell Tillie & Merissa but I didn't want to cause a commotion so I left and ended up walking into him by the green house.

He must've found that place and let out his anger before I bumped into him. I couldn't sense the anger when I saw him, and I didn't realise who he was until I saw all his features.

This is what makes it 10 times worse, that anger was real and passionate. That anger was for me because of what I did.

What did I do?

….

I'm pacing the dorm. Merissa is moisturising in the bathroom whilst Tillie attempts to explain all the details of yesterday to us. We're both too occupied to listen but I try to act interested, no point me hurting her feelings because I'm too tense too see George at this morning's meeting. If he even turns up that is, might be too _angry._

When we arrive downstairs, no-one is there besides a few dancers who we tend to group with. One approaches us – Kian. He's noticeably attractive with his dark features and Irish accent but I've been too engaged with George to notice him. He nods to Tillie and Merissa peculiarly as they summon me goodbye and leave down one of the numerous rehearsal corridors.

He takes me by the elbow and leans close as if creating a private sector for us.

"Jennie has placed you into a different group." His southern voice glides. "You're still with us but the thing is, you'll be dancing for George." He swallows.

I pout into his darkened blue eyes. Why does he think I need to know this? It's as if everyone can read my mind and knows I despise the idea of dancing with him, no matter how much I do still adore him.

He senses my confusion, "Tillie and Merissa told me. They didn't say a lot, don't worry; only that George is being a twat and they wanted me to look out for you."

Sweat starts to stick to every fissure of my body; I imagine a thick gleam covers my forehead.

I struggle out an "Ok" and blink at the cuffs on his sleeves, not knowing where else to look.

"We better go" he says.

I follow.

…

The room is the last of the hall way, room B6, between a spacious cupboard filled with replacement mirrors, fixtures, piles of chairs and another rehearsal room, smaller than ours.

Inside ours, mirrors line 2 of the walls, black paint covers one and bricks cover the other, George stands between the collision of the two.

Glaring at me as I place my bag down, I stand close to Kian. Kian notices George too, raising his eyebrows in the distance to seem threatening.

"What's his problem?" Kian curves down to whisper.

"My guess is the same as yours."

He snorts sarcastically. I can tell he thinks George truly is acting like a twat as he heard.

We stand in the middle row of 3, George in the first row, positioned as our choreographer - Neil, demanded. And because we face one row of mirrors, I can see his reflection clearly.

The way his fists curl and flex to the music, the way he leans from one foot to the other, keen to get on, the way he flutters his eyes in my direction every now and then and I have to control myself to not pounce on him.

At first I feel as though I want to pounce because I envy not being able to feel him hold me like he used to, but now, I'm sure it's out of rage.

Or maybe it's a mixture of both.

"Alright dancers, I need you to pair up, opposing genders." Neil requests.

Kian grabs my hand and squeezes it affectionately; he must be trying to keep me calm.

"Now girls, grab a chair. Because we are dancing to a very _sexy_song this week, I want you to treat it like your lover. You need to express passion and adoration for this chair like it were real." He eyes us up and down, catching my attention for a second "And boys, I need you to stand aside from the girls, but act similarly like they're you chair. Only you _need_ this chair. You _want_ this chair like your life depends on it. We'll continue on from there."

I like Neil. He's very fervent about his work and I've heard he likes to make us improvise a lot to make it seem more realistic and one-off. Improvisation is one of my many talents, especially if it's "Sexual dancing", it'd be less awkward if I can dance at my own standards, particularly in front of George.

We perch on our chairs, leaning towards our male partners. Kian wears only short tracky bottoms and a tight, abs defining vest, it's hard not to stare.

"Now I don't like having a planned sketch, so girls & boys, just improvise! Remember, be sexy and follow the personality I gave you." Neil beckons Union J to sit and watch, he presses play, I position myself.

I whip my hips, curving them as I rise upwards and then tilt towards Kian, teasing him. I circle the chair now, flexing my body into ripples up against it. Kian joins me, we follow each other's bodies and finally, I feel close to someone again.

It's not until the music stops that I realise everyone else has stopped too and George has left the room.

Neil starts to clap "Brilliant guys. That was incredible. Exactly what I wanted." He places his hands on his hips, grinning wide. "Did everyone follow that?" He scans the class; they all nod, and then he looks back to us. "Good. That's the level I want to see from all of you. Now take a break and meet back here in 20 minutes."

I turn to look at Kian. He shrugs his shoulders. He knows what I want to ask – Did George leave because of us?

We sit on the cool tiled floor and sip from bottles of water.

"Maybe you should go and talk to him. I can tell he's gasping to talk to you, even if he's acting like a jealous sod."

I sigh. "I would. But I don't want to make the first move to an apology. I'm not the one being a total dick, so why should I move in first, I have no reason too." That came out harsher than I had planned.

Kian surrenders his arms up, just like George did on our night in the greenhouse. "I just thought it would help. No biggy." He replies.

…..

When everyone returns from break, I realise that George and his group haven't.

"If any of you are wondering, I didn't think there was any need for the boys to watch us rehearse so I sent them to their vocal coach." Neil chips in just as the thought echoes through my mind.

That's a huge relief. No George. But a part of me wished he had stayed, just so I could surge some jealously within him.

We rehearse for what seems like days, but were merely a few hours. None the less, my body aches and I envy some time for a warm bath and gossip with my girls.

As me and Kian leave, we agree to meet for lunch tomorrow on our day off, with our other dance friends though. We hug goodbye and venture down different corridors.

As I turn the corner, I sense another person edging near me. I startle them with my harsh movement. I startle George.

He gasps and is about to smile it seems until he recognises me and turns away in irritation, walking further from me.

This boils my blood. I can't take it anymore. I rage run towards him, forcing his shoulder round to look at me and pin him to the wall.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" I'm screaming almost, I feel intimidating.

"IS THAT JUST WHAT YOU DO, USE GIRLS AND THEN IGNORE THEM AND WALK OFF WITH ANOTHER GIRL RIGHT INFRONT OF THEM? IT'S GISGUSTING!"

He looks shocked, frightened even. But then he places my hand calmly off his shoulder, his touch just as velvet soft as it were when I held them and then he stares at me mincingly.

I feel as though he is about to kiss me, but the daring rage inside me is confusing and I have to remove myself from him.

Just at that moment, Kian comes storming round the corner. I assume heard me yelling because he looks livid. His steps are heavy on the concrete flooring, fast and taunting.

Before I can approach him and tell him I'm okay, he lunges at George's face. His jaw shifts and spit shoots out just as another punch hurdles towards his face.

George collapses to the floor in a heaped ball, holding his chin, he bleeds slightly.

A tear escapes my eye.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: realised I re-named Julie as Jennie. Ignore that :-) **

…..

Kian is being "held captive" for a few days under Julie's care, just encase he decides to attack anyone again, which to me seems like a completely exaggerated method as Kian is the most un-threatening male I know.

But I can't say anything myself, not until she consulates me anyway which is where I'm heading now.

"Knock, knock" and a pause. I wait. My hands are clammy with stress. There are too many things that could go wrong in this room; I have to keep my answers basic.

"Come in." Her unyielding voice ushers me through. She perches behind a wide, mahogany desk, raising some thin spectacles from her nose and into her hair to get a better sight of me.

"Hello there again Frankie. Please sit".

The leather chair is cushioned but low and thin so it's relatively hard to get out of without force. I guess that's why she uses it in this room - to imprison her victims.

"It seems you are consistently raising concerns with me Miss Yeild." She glares at me in distress. "Now, tell me about yesterday. I need you to describe to me what happened as soon as you met with George that afternoon".

I breathe in. Not too much information Frankie, remember. "First of all, we didn't _meet_. I walked into him. And second of all, Kian shouldn't be held away like that. He hit George out of defence for me."

"Defence? What exactly was George doing, for Kian to have to defend you in that way?" Her eyes squint and lips pout. I've said something wrong already. I can tell.

"He wasn't doing anything to me." My hands become even clammier, dampening a patch of my tights where they sit. "He had just been acting out of order recently and whilst I was having a go at him, Kian heard our argument then he hit George before I could stop him." I stare at my knees. "Like I said, Kian was doing it out of protection for me."

She doesn't reply. Papers file between her fingers, she scans them whilst adding notes. The silence edges through my body like an illness.

My breathing becomes inpatient, throat drying, fingers pressing against my palms uncomfortably.

There's a clang of metal as the door behind me opens. We both wince at the sound which disrupted the hush. A skinny, pale woman with bright red hair appears. "Sorry to disturb you, but George is outside. Should I tell him to wait?"

Julie's lips pierce together. "No. Bring him in actually." As her eyes glance down, back to the papers, they skim my face briefly.

He hobbles in. The sight of his face causes a skip in my breathing. His jaw is bandaged up around his head and a large, purple lip pokes out the side. The eye not covered by the bandage is puffy and red as if he hasn't slept in weeks.

It is directed at me. The passion he displays is not hatred this time, but envy - pure, agonising envy. It destroys me.

Whatever Julie wanted to do by bringing him in, has obviously worked. I feel guilty, out of no apparent reason in myself but it's frightening. My head pounds, eyes feel heavy.

Next thing I know, I'm out the door. It slams, echoing through the empty corridor. Hearing is incoherent, walls closing in on me. I feel an agonizing case of "de-ja-vu". I'm going to faint again. Please don't Frankie. Control yourself.

George's oozing, bruised lip flashes in my mind. The punch. My screams. Kian's face.

Cool stone grazes my arms. I slide down, hunching up onto the floor, head in my knees. I cry.

…..

When the tears stop, I hear nothing but faint sobs ringing in my ears. I daren't look up until I'm sure no-one is watching me. All around is silence, until a sudden creak of a door and slow, staggering footsteps.

A shadow casts round the corner of which I came from, caramel skin turning towards me.

I berry my face in my knees again. He sighs.

"Don't do this Frankie." His voice is soft but inpatient. "I just want to talk."

I glare up at him then, hair sticking to dried tears on my face. "You've had the past month to talk to me and didn't. What makes this any different?"

He doesn't reply, only lengthening the obstinate silence between us and he still alights at the end of the corridor too, as if not wanting to get infected by me.

I make odious eye contact. Actions speak louder than words as they say. But in this case, his words spoke louder than any action he could make.

"I know about him Frankie."

_I know about him Frankie. _Who's him? Kian? George can't possibly think we're an item can he? I sneer my nose at him in disgust. "You're remarkable George, always constructing enquiries that you can't support."

"Don't give me that." He edges towards me now. "I know about your lover boy. All the time you told me you'd never had a serious relationship." His fists tense. "I thought you really liked me. I trusted you."

_Lover boy? Relationship? _I hadn't cut in out of pure astonishment. I hold my head in my hand, closing my eyes. "I have no idea where you came up with the idea that I had a boyfriend, but it's utter _bull_. So if you're just going to stand there and _accuse_ me for it all then just leave because I don't want to hear it."

He shakes his head in revulsion. "I don't believe you." His head still shakes. "I don't…" "Believe you."

I get up, storming towards him, not pinning him to the wall this time, but leaving him. I've had enough.

My arm grazes his, a fierce gust of air brewing as I walk. He smells like hospitals and a distinguishing, fruity, male detergent. He's lingering behind me as I stop abruptly because of a firm, refined hand clutching onto my wrist. He twists me round cautiously to face him. "Please Frankie. Tell me the truth." His eye glistens in the slowly darkening light that dawdles through a window behind us. The chocolaty colour of his pupil I once saw now represents a dull grey.

"I told you the truth already. You chose not to believe me." His clutch loosens, I struggle out the door.

…

The next day, Julie summons me to her office again. She leads me into a melancholy room behind her office with a sealed of door. Inside is just a single, mediocre bed, table, mini fridge, a small, ageing window and a fragile body – Kian. He looks restless, his hair angled up in several places and his warm, masculine glow has faded.

I run into him and wrap his body around mine, breathing in a musky, sweaty scent. When he realises who I am, he speaks.

"I need to tell you something but we don't have long" he whispers through my hair. I sense a daunting urgency in his voice.

I let go, staring straight through him. "What? Tell me."

"George came to see me yesterday after your one on one. He said he thought he could trust me to tell him if you were lying or not. He asked me about your apparent boyfriend and I denied it. He looked terrible." Our eye contact parts. "He says he's sorry and wants to see you later…"

"But I don't want to see him" I interrupt bashfully.

"I know. I understand why. But please Frankie, I recognised that sorrow in his eyes. He needs to talk to you and I want you to." When I don't reply, he takes my hands in his. "Listen to me. He'll be waiting in his room at 6. If you don't turn up, he said he understands and takes it as a vowel to leave you alone. He'll never talk to you again."

I nod, blinking back some tears. "Thank you Kian. You're an amazing friend." We embrace each other's bodies again and I leave him confined to the box room which is now his home.

…..

I stand outside George's room. Number 81. I'm late. It's half 6 and I don't want to talk to him. But I couldn't bare him thinking that I've given up on us completely and beckon him to ignore me. I have to do it.

I'm about to knock when I hear some feeble voices from inside.

"Bad luck mate." It sounds like JJ.

"Shut up JJ…" "She might just be running late, contemplating whether or not to talk to you, that's all." I think it's Jaymie.

George cuts in, "I know she's not coming guys. Why would she? I believed _Eliza's_ lies, I hated her for it and I accused her. She told me the truth and I still ignored it…" "I'm just a pointless hurdle in her life and she deserves someone better than me."

Eliza. Why didn't I see this coming? It's so obvious now. She lured him into her trap and made me the victim. It wasn't George's fault.

The door opens in a swift curve. A disordered George stands there in shock. His bandage has been removed; his lip swelling has reduced but is still obvious. "Frankie, I…" His voice becomes croaky and tangent.

"Eliza. I know." I whisper.

A smile edges his face and then mine. He grabs me close, one hand grasping the small of my back, the other, the back of my neck. We rest our heads in the nooks of each other's shoulders. I feel a tear clamber from my eye, swooping down the curve of my cheek bone. He dusts it off swiftly with a finger and holds my face in his hands. "I'm so sorry." He murmurs with an emotional, soapy voice. I nod in agreement, holding back more cries.

I don't realise how or when but our lips now clasp on. They're stained with tears and I taste salt but passion. We hold onto each other forcefully, the muscles in his back flexing with each kiss under a smooth, layer of tartan shirt.

Being with him now, feels incredible.

It feels right.


	11. Chapter 11

He's holding my bum; I relax effortlessly into his body, gripping to his neck whilst my ankles hook together balancing on his hips. Passionately, we kiss, caressing his jaw bone, his hand caressing mine.

The slight prickle of unshaved skin tickles my face. He smells of aftershave now. Sweetly burning off his body and clutching onto me. We both start to sweat violently, a desirable sweat.

I do desire him though. I desire his touch, his smell, his deep, musky voice telling me he needs me. That is what he whispers into my neck as we kiss. "I need you Frankie. I've needed you all this time…"

His body leads me to his bed - him on his back, me resting on top of him. He flips me over so now he perches on top of me, embracing my neck with his touch, exploring my body.

His shirt hugs his ribs, taking my hands in his, he leads them to his chest, exposing the top upwards, descending over his head, skimming to the floor like a pebble. Golden like coffee, his abs are defined by the dim lighting that exposes us, a shadow glooming behind him. I trace my fingers delicately over each nook, my thumbs pressing into his skin creating white blotches and where they land, goose bumps trail behind.

Before long, his feathered hands are on my chest, revealing a black, lace bra. I let him hold me, smoothing the outer layer of my skin. He kisses the upper part of my breast that pokes out of the bra with a few quick, seductive pecks.

He pulls me into him. I let his hands touch my jeans, un-buttoning them carefully and slipping them from my legs in one swift whip. He kisses my stomach where it meets the panty line. "My turn" he flashes me a naughty grin before raising off my body and displacing his bottoms from his figure. I can't help but smile.

I sit up, inclined on the wall behind his bed, we exchange smiles. He joins me, leaning in for a kiss again, holding the crown of my head.

We vacate under the sheets that rest on his bed.

He swipes my underwear off, I swipe his boxers off, my bra unclicks, he caresses my chest, I grip his back, his muscles flex, our bodies collide, and he enters me.

….

We spent hours seducing each other. In a lapse of pleasure until exhaustion overcame us.

I rest my naked frame on his chest, my hand over his heart. His body presses into mine, grooming my hair with subtle strokes. I peer up at him, at the swollen, purple gash on his face. He looked a mess when I first saw him, but now, after making love to him, he looks beautiful.

I reach for his face, stroking the cuts and bruises he fashions. He closes his eyes, his palm holding the back of my hand. "I'm sorry" I whisper. "I didn't realise Kian would do that."

"No" his eyes open, meeting mine. "It wasn't his fault. I brought it upon myself."

I laugh profoundly. "yeah, you kinda did."

He joins in on my laughter, whipping my hand away playfully.

He grabs my waste, sitting on top of me, and attempting to tickle my sides. I try to swat him off "Please, I surrender!"

He laughs at my anguish, "Okay, okay", moving his hands to his bent knees.

He grins at me from above and I stare back courteously. "What're you thinking?" I question.

"You really want to know?" he answers with torment in his voice.

I nod, reaching for his hands to grip mine.

"I'm thinking about the fact that you're naked right now and have an amazing body." He laughs to himself at my snubbed reaction.

"And… I'm thinking about how amazingly beautiful you are, how I love your laugh; how I'm incredibly lucky to call you mine."

In that instant, Eliza's voice appeared in my head. She had warned me of this and I had forgotten.

"George look-" I fluttered my eyes down. "During my time in hospital, Eliza came to see me-"

"-Ignore her. You know what she's like" his eyes looked watery.

"I know, I know. But the thing is, she saw us in the greenhouse that night. She knows everything and she warned me to stay away from you or… or she'd reveal it and I'd have to leave."

I caught his eyes. They were damp with worry.

"She wouldn't do that. I can talk to her." He stutters.

"She'll know I came to you if you try. There's no point."

He squeezes my hands tighter now, a beggars grip.

"Look Frankie, she's a spiteful person. Before long, people will realise that and… and then she'll give it up. It will work out, I know it will. I'm not going to leave you."

I stare into his emotionless eyes.

"Who is she George? What did she do to you?" he looks away, his grip loosens.

"You can tell me, you trust me, remember."

There's silence, people pass the room outside, laughing and shouting. It must be about 1am, people are beckoned to return to dorms by this time. He sighs. "She's a cruel person." I think he's not going to continue until he cuts in again. "We met in school; she was different than the other girls - quieter, distanced, I was drawn to her. Before long, we were dating. I think I almost loved her but then one evening, she took me into town, to a hotel, it was stingy and falling apart. I wondered how she even knew of the place, it was disgusting." His voice starts to crack. "She led me inside, into a room with just a bed and sink. She forced me to have sex with her. At the time, I thought she genuinely had feelings for me so I let her. But afterwards, she left the room, telling me to wait. I waited for 2 hours until deciding to find her. It took me a while but I found a room with light glowing through its cracks and heard laughing. I knew it was her laugh as soon as I heard it but it sounded off, it sounded angry. I went inside and-"he twists some of my hair in his hands anxiously. "Let's just say, whatever was happening in that room, was _repulsive_."

He lets go of my hair, it falls back onto my shoulder in a spiral.

"As she saw me, she didn't look shocked or guilty, just happy. She invited me in to join her. I screamed at her, I tried to hurt her but people stopped me. Then I left." He breathes in large pants of air.

"After that, she started spreading rumours about me, just to blackmail me into not telling anyone what I saw."

He was about to say something else, but I stopped him, holding my finger to his lips.

"I understand George. I understand." I whisper before seizing him into a hug. I hold his back firmly as he grips my neck and breathes into my collar bone.

Warm specks of moisture flitter onto my collar. He's crying.

I raise his chin with my hand to look at me, he kisses me quickly, I feel his body soften.

He rubs my jaw with his thumb, glaring into my eyes. He has told me his deepest fear, his deepest worry. He trusts me and I trust him. His face still glistens with damp tears, a shiny reflection in his eyes.

"Can I ask you something?" he murmurs into our kiss.

I close my eyes and lean into his chest, placing my hands on his bare abs. I feel the heaves of his breathes through his chest, landing on me. "Of course" I reply, barely a whisper…

He breathes in deeply, stroking the side of my face, cradling my body.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

I smile; an exaggerated grin, but I can barely contain myself. "Yes." I look up at him. "Yes." I smile.

He pecks his lips on my nose and whispers finely, "goodnight, my beautiful girlfriend." We fall asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Two weeks ago, George told me his biggest secret. Two weeks ago, I became an item with George. Two weeks ago, I fell hopelessly in love with George.

But in the last two weeks, I've been worrying about Eliza. Me and George separate from each other except when in our dorms. The only people who know about us now are the rest of Union J and my girls.

He finally understands that Eliza will do whatever she can do get me kicked out and it's our only option to act as though we hate each other now. But the time we spend together is secret and rebellious, I love it and I love him.

I'm visiting Kian today; he's finally been let free. Well, he was allowed back into civilisation a week after the incident but he wasn't allowed anywhere near me or George until now. (Besides my little visit during George's moment) but it's been a very long time.

I peck George's sleeping cheek (we try to sleep in the same room as each other every few weekends now, as I can't bear to not see him). His face has healed thankfully with only a slight murky outline where a bruise once was.

…..

I don't know where I'll find Kian but I recon he might be in the social room as that's where most people gather. From the outside, the room is echoing with voices, laughter and music but inside, Kian is no-where to be seen.

I spot Merissa in the crowd, her stunning blonde hair curling at the edges.

"Hey, have you seen Kian anywhere?" I have to shout slightly.

She shakes her head part way until staring hollowly past my shoulder with an emerging smile.

Before I can turn around, some warm, parched hands cover my eyes. "Guess who?" I instantly recognise Kians voice. I pull his hands off my eyes and clasp them tightly. He holds an enormous grin "hello stranger" he quotes as I jump in for a hug. The fabric of his shirt is soft against my skin.

"Finally out of custody then?" I tease.

He laughs abruptly, still holding my hands. "No thanks to you…"

I scold at him and whack his arm. "You didn't have to _defend_ me you know"

He lowers himself to my level and sniggers. "What, you're a strong, independent woman now?"

I gasp impishly. "You – sir, are earning your way to a punch".

"Oh you wouldn't hurt me."

"You wanna bet?" I question – before I can respond, he's grabbed me by the waste and flung me over his shoulder. He gallops to a sofa in the corner of the room and flings me down.

The whole room starts to shout and howl at us as if we're a _thing_ now.

I don't have to look in a mirror to tell that I've gone completely red and Kian too. He looks at me embarrassed then back to the crowd that has gathered. "Alright guys, calm your tits." Then he slumps next to me.

They start to mock us, big grins on their faces, all of them, except George.

He lingers at the back of the room, spitefulness in his eyes. I'd go over to him, but he knows our arrangement. It would be too obvious.

Kian faces to where I'm looking, concern in his eyes. People start to hush down and get back to socialising.

"You don't have to re-assure him you know. It's none of his business." Kian glances at George abruptly.

It hits me then. Kian doesn't know about me and George. He must've thought that we never made peace and now we're enemies which I suppose – is what we want everyone to believe. But Kian trusts me and he has to know.

I look at my lap, jeans creasing slightly. "Kian…" – "George and I…" – "We're still together." I whisper that last part.

When I look up, George is gone and Kian has become pale faced.

He stutters. "Oh – I just figured that…" he wipes his palms on his legs. "You know.." He doesn't look at me. I get a desperate, awful feeling that Kian might have feelings for me.

"Yeah, it was heading that way - but turns out he was being fed lies."

He doesn't say anything. Only fiddles with his nails.

"But you can't tell anyone ok Kian? You have to be sworn to secrecy." I take his hands and he looks at me. "ok?" I repeat.

He nods - "Won't tell a soul."

….

I haven't had a chance to see George since then and I'm worried he thinks the worst of me and Kian re-uniting. Then to top it all off, we have rehearsals now to see who's to dance for Union J.

They're singing a slow acapella this week so need two people to dance in the background. Me and Kian are two of some auditioning and I can bet that we'll be put together, just to add to the awkwardness.

…

George isn't here yet as we're only dancing. We take our turns individually then get paired up. Me and Kian are with different partners. Mine is a broad, blonde male who I've seen around. He looks as though he could be gay but I immediately realise he's not as he places his hand on my bum cheek instinctively and gives me a cheeky grin as though he thinks I'm impressed.

I yank it off and place it on my lower back instead.

"Not that type of girl eh?" he has a strong, southern accent and his skin glows which I guess means he's from the coast.

I reply with a livid glare.

He shrugs. "That's a shame. When I 'eard you and the Shelley guy had gone your differen' ways, I thought I'd get in' there." He takes my hand, ready to lead in the dance.

"You thought you'd _get in' there_?" I question.

"Yea'. You're a nice lookin' girl and not many can resist my charm."

I laugh. "I'm sorry, but I've got to be honest, I thought you were gay".

His mouth drops to speechlessness, we start to dance and he doesn't touch me inappropriately again.

…

My last partner is Kian. We dance effortlessly, our bodies mirroring each other. He kept his gaze on me throughout, his eyes full of anticipation and requirement, his skin brushing my skin creating electric pulses. This only influenced the thought that he had feelings for me.

I had the impression that he was about to kiss me until our instructor interrupted and announced that me and Kian weren't to be dancing together but me and the perverted southerner I had the pleasure to dance with first.

His eyes light up as she says this. He takes his place next to me just as George and his guitar walk through the door.

His gaze settles on me for longer than I would've liked. He and Kian exchange peaceful smiles and then he's summoned over to a stool in the middle with the rest of Union J.

I sit down in the corner to watch their performance and "get an idea of how I should be dancing".

George starts to play rhythms on his guitar, tranquille, distance sounds.

He starts to sing. His voice is bright, magnificent and rough. The others start to harmonise in. George glances my way as he quotes "and that's how I love you." I don't know if he meant for it to seem as though he was saying that to me but it gives me chills and I hope he was.

He ends the song on a solo, plucking the strings adequately and repeating "that's how I love you".

Afterwards, me and "Johnny" join in dancing and he attempts to grab parts of my body in an attempt to impress me again. Every time he does, George shoots me concerned looks through the mirror but my expression calms him.

Kian stays padlocked on the floor, glaring between me and George and Johnny. I wish he wouldn't be so obvious. But when it's over, he leaves without a glance. Johnny attempts to walk with me but I remind him that I'm not interested and he storms ahead with a shrug.

Union J is still inside rehearsing so I decide to talk to George later - but half way down the hallway, a door strikes open and a panting George makes his way down to me in a little jog.

"You didn't wait for me?" he smiles, a little out of breathe, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"Thought you were still rehearsing?" I reply.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you though."

I lean on the wall with him. "I'm listening,"

-"well, I just want you to tell me truthfully ok?"

"Ok?" I lower my eye brows.

His face seems serious "have you lost your feelings for me?"

"What are you talking about George?"

"Well you can't deny that Kian is completely smitten for you and this morning, you seemed to be acting the same way." - "and it's not the only time I've noticed it."

I stare at him disorderly. "George, what sort of question is that? Of course I haven't lost my feelings for you. If anything, they've grown so much so that I miss you even when you're with me."

He awkwardly fidgets with his jeans. "And yes I have noticed that Kian had feelings for me, but that was only until this morning and I didn't think anything of it because I have you and I want to keep it that way."

"Really?" his voice is croaky. I take his hands in mine.

"Yes, really."

He smiles, full of teeth and dimples. I smile too. He takes me in for a hug, holding my back firmly then kissing my neck, tracing up to my lips. Fluttering in my stomach, his lips are on mine. We exchange smiles and kisses and smiles and kisses. Then a startling gasp followed by a laugh break us apart.

A wisp of golden hair catches my eyes and a piercing, evil grin. It's Eliza.


	13. Chapter 13

She shrugs with her arms up as an exaggerated expression - blonde hair swaying to the movement of her big ego. "Hope I wasn't disturbing anything?" she hoots.

Me and George symmetrically grab each other's hands.

"Can we help you, _Eliza_?" George replies pale faced.

She files her nails with some cloth from her shirt. As per, her boobs are hanging out and she's not short of some extra tight clothing. She glances up at George, our hands, then me; "Hm, depends really…"

George frowns; I keep my gaze on him.

"You genuinely had me fooled for a second there. Good job I found out when I did though, as I almost let George _try_ it on with me again." She smiles smugly in my direction.

I stammer aggressively; "you whore, George never wanted to _try it on with you._I've heard the story."

She looks confused but then complacent and steps an inch closer to us so that I can see each detail of her patchy face clearly. "_He_ didn't tell you did _he_?" she laughs.

George breaks in tensely – "stop it Eliza, you've said enough."

I let go of his grip and push him back hard "what?" my voice is raising.

"Come on Frankie, ignore it." He re-grabs my hand violently.

Before he can drag me away, Eliza has positioned herself in front of us, blocking the exit. "Oh please, let me…" she turns her stare to me, scanning my face for insecurities. "When you had your little accident and George had confined in me, well... – "George interrupts stubbornly "- don't Eliza" they exchange glares. "Please." George barely murmurs.

She gives in her shoulders; still staring at George, then approaches him in a skip, her face next to his. I tinge with jealousy. "Tell her then." She whispers into his ear and her lips brush past his cheek before turning to leave us.

"Listen to me Frankie. You don't need to know, she's blowing it out of proportion."

I can tell in his eyes that he truly doesn't want me to know. But I _want_ to know.

"Tell me." I demand. His eyes flutter anxiously.

"Listen, I was weak and angry. I thought you'd lied to me, the first thing in my life that had mattered. So you see, in a way, I was mourning over you. And Eliza, she was there for me and..."

He pauses momentarily.

"And what George?" I'm hesitating; I think I know what's next.

He takes my hands, they're clammy with concern. "We had sex."

My forehead burns with sweat. I force my way out of his hands. I can't make eye contact. "What the fuck George. What the fu-"I'm turning to run away from him. He tries to grab my waste. I lumber out of his hold. "Don't touch me." my voice comes out more broken than angry.

"It's not as bad as you think Frankie. Please,_ listen_ to me." he sounds desperate. I won't listen.

I turn around suddenly – raging with anger. "Oh what? It's not a big deal? It's not a big deal that a boy who I thought really liked me, who I thought cared for me had actually believed the bitch that lied to him, had sex with her only weeks after we had. And you think that it's not a big deal?" I start to yell. "You took my virginity and used me like a tool so just fuck off ok?"

I _am_ running now, slowly but drastically. I can hear George yelling in the background words that I can't understand. As I turn the corner, Eliza is there waiting for me and George is silent.

I try to push past her but she grabs my wrist and twists me towards her. It hurts.

"Stop over-reacting. It's just sex." She winces grittily.

"Yeah for some." I reply.

"What're you trying to say?" she twists my wrist harder.

I wince a little and vigour my way out of it. "I'm saying." I stand centre metres from her face. "That you're a slut and I don't care what you do now because I don't give a damn." - "you can do to George Shelley whatever you like."

She laughs hysterically. "Well." She faces me. "Then I guess we're even now. No need to jabber off to Julie about our little night time activities." She grabs my cheek like a child. "Ok honey?"

I shake her off and glare with revulsion then walk away.

…

I've been crying for what feels like days. I told Tillie and Merissa to inform Julie that I can't play the role of female dancer for George's performance this week as I can't bear to look at him. She doesn't know this of course. Johnny had stormed into our room soon after in distress asking if I was ill. I couldn't tell him about me and George so agreed - which is now the rumour going round according to Tillie and Merissa.

They've been trying to settle me but every time I calm down, I remember just how reluctant George was to tell me. And that's what hurts the most.

….

It must be late in the evening, maybe 3 days after the argument. George has been trying to talk to me but I won't let him come in. Sworn Tillie & Merissa to keep me confined from the world until he leaves it.

There's a firm knock at the door. Only two knocks, not like George's which are 3, soft pats - then a hollow, gruff voice. It's Kian.

A mixture of love, embarrassment and anxiousness overcomes me. I think he genuinely wants to see me but then I remember the last time me and George fell out and he asked Kian to pass messages to me. I recon this is the same thing; it fills me with anger.

Kian turns the corner where our bedroom is separated from the front hallway. "Hey possum." He's so happy that it nerves me and anger overcomes me.

"Convinced you to make me listen to you _again_ ey?" The minute I say it, I regret it.

He laughs a short, anxious laugh then looks away. "I don't see why I would do that. Try not to involve myself with that _little boy_ any more than I need to."

It makes me smile. I can't help myself around Kian – his green eyes look remorseful and his hair stands as if he's just woken up. "I'm sorry. I'm just really angry that's all."

He grins at me sarcastically then takes place besides me on the bed.

"You look a mess." He takes a stray hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

He's giving me those eyes again. The ones which convinced me he fancied me.

"I just wanted to see if you were ok. You know I'll always be here for you if you need to talk?" he says it so softly.

"I know." I smile.

He smiles back. There's a minute silence until he lifts one of his hands, approaching my face and plants in on my jaw. I watch him as he traces my skin with his eyes and fingers. He starts to lean in and I let him. Our lips are merely a pinkie nail apart. I can almost taste him but not before I swipe my head to the side and he plants a kiss on my cheek instead.

I close my eyes ashamed.

"Forgive me." He pleads in a discreet voice.

I reply quickly; "no, I shouldn't have let it go that far. It's my fault."

He stares down at his hands and shakes his head. "You'll never want _me_ as much as you want _him_, will you?"

I sigh out "No." Then make him look at me. "I'm sorry. But I love him."

…

Kian left soon after this almost-kiss. But we talked about things. I convinced him to try and give up on "us" and find someone else which he eventually agreed to trying. But I also told him of my _plans_. He didn't like the idea but I won't listen because I've decided, and I'm going to tell George tomorrow, before it's too late.

…

Tillie's glossy, black hair tickles me awake. Her piercing eyes perching above me frighten me.

"It's the big day", she exclaims slightly upset.

She's right. It's the big day.

"Oh, but before you get ready, you've got mail from you know who." I glare at her un-easily. "I know you don't want to see it but I think you should. There's no point ignoring him if you're going to see him today."

She has a point.

I take the mail from her graciously. It's a thin envelope with a slip of paper inside. I take it out unable to read it.

"Tillie. Read it to me?" I smile at her with friendly eyes.

She sighs cynically and takes it from me.

I start on brushing my hair from its bun.

"Frankie… if you trust me like I know you do, then please read on." She pauses and squints my way. "You want me to read the rest?"

I nod.

She creases out the paper. "I need to tell you something important and I'm not going to defend myself against what I did so I understand if you don't want to see me but please listen to me." She takes a breathe. "I want to see you today. If you agree to meet me then follow the instructions below and I'll be waiting… All my love, George."

She closes the note up and hands me it with the envelope. "I think it's your turn now."

…

Winter sun burns on my cheeks. Frost grows from window ledges and pipes, fluttering rays of light into my eyes.

George's first instruction was to simply get into warm clothes.

Then secondly, make my way downstairs to meet a man named Joe.

Joe was a plump, balding receptionist with big eyes and tubby hands. He handed me an orange rose on our meeting then led me to a cab out front and drove me off. I now stand outside, strolling through a huge, leaf-less park which I guess is Hyde Park, clutching the rose and have a map guiding me. There are various check points on the map where I have to stop until they lead me to the final one where George should be.

I can't help but hate him but I also love him too.

The first check point comes near, this time a tall, skinny male, a bit older than me stands there. He holds a white rose and hands it to me before leading me on my way.

This happens another four times, I collect a pink, blue, yellow and peach rose from various shaped men in similar outfits.

I head to a tree with a thick heart carved into its core with pink spluttered paint all over.

I trace the outline of it with my hand. Rigid edges digging into my palm, creating shards of wood to fall.

A body emerges behind me, I can tell by a looming shadow.

I turn and George stands there in a neat suit, red rose in his hand, dark hair swooped effortlessly to the side and dimpled cheeks grinning at me.

I grin back and I mean it. I hadn't realised how much I missed his beauty.

We run into each other's arms. I berry my head in his chest. It fits perfectly.

He squeezes me close and whispers into my ear "I'm so sorry."

I pull apart, grabbing his hands in mine. They're soft and moist, unlike Kians which are usually dry but I prefer it this way.

We just stare at each other for a while. I fall into his eyes which create a spinning pool of green and caramel. He tucks the rose into my hair, snipping off the bottom stalk so that it sits properly.

I smile at his effort and pull him close. Fingers line my eyebrows, my jaw and cheek bones easily. Sparks exchange, my heart flutters.

I close my eyes and our lips collide.

We kiss for so long that we end up striking the heart planted tree forcefully and continue to kiss passionately until slouching onto brittle grass in a tangle of limbs.

I lay in his arms, him keeping me warm and stroking my side.

"You know I said I needed to tell you something?" he fumbles into my hair.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to tell you…" he lifts his finger to my chin to raise my eyes to his. "That I love you."

I smile and sigh relief "I you too."


	14. Chapter 14

Another night of love making: Clutching, goose-bumps, sweat, passion, kisses, screams, pulses, warmth, lust, cravings.

It doesn't hurt anymore, not that it hurt in the first place that much, oblivious to the anguish from those around us who seem to moan about the agonizing pain after your first few times. But for me, it just tinged and the second time was full of desire which outweighed any pain. Then this time, was pure heaven. I'd never felt so much love for someone before.

Neither of us forced it on each other, it just happened as did the evening which went something like this –

The rose trail, hours of talking and teasing in the grass as the sun climbed down to kiss the land. Cold walks along the pavement, marked with yellow like daffodils, a late night meal in a concealed Italian bistro, an agile stroll through a park lined with trees that bent over seemingly to stroke your hair just like George does. And then, we perched on a rusting bench that barely had engraved initials and dates on its back whilst we watched over London's skyline. It reminded me of the first time we met and he took me up to the greenhouse in the early hours of the morning to watch the rain paint down on this similar view, like a tranquil music video about love and blossoming flowers.

Then after that, yearning took over and it took courage to control ourselves before we got into the privacy of his room – enter passionate love making session.

…..

I have to resist lunging on George now as he sleeps.

The duvet covers have wrinkled into streams down to his crotch so that only a faint -v- line can be seen around his golden hips and his skin tinges with heat, trailed with honey coloured veins throughout a bare chest.

They define when he exhales and his chest compresses downwards for too long sometimes that it makes me nervous. But I love to watch his breathing motions and mirror it.

I reach over to fiddle with some of his tussled hair which has fanned out like a halo of straw around his face, and then with nimble fingers I stroke the inner of his hollowed cheeks.

Moles and freckles dot his skin, random like splattered paint.

One on his neck slightly resembles a heart, my thumb presses it lightly as if pecking it with a kiss but with that, he wakes up startled and snatches my hand for reassurance.

A smile curls onto his jaw as he sees me; "Morning beautiful." His voice is a little edgy.

"You okay?" my eyes flick over to his hearty mole.

"Just a nightmare" he laughs. "Admiring my mole?" he asks with mock aggressiveness.

I poke it gently "Interesting shape."

He sniggers and flicks my finger away; "when I was born", he murmurs with a husky morning voice – "my mum said the mid-wife told her that any _freckle_ in the crevice of your neck before your collar bone is a sign of luck in love, but since then, It has been one of my biggest insecurities. Until you came along that is."

"You, with insecurities? You lie boy."

"You betcha. But you know what?" he grabs my hands and leans over me on the bed.

"what?" I giggle, staring up at him.

"That when I'm with you, none of my insecurities matter because you make me feel important and I don't care about what others think."

"As do I."

He smiles to me, grabs my face in his hands and kisses me violently as he _nakedly_ sits on top of my _naked_ body until the kisses turn into slow, silky pecks.

He reaches under my back with firm palms, one still on the small of my back, the other on one bare bum cheek.

I start to laugh at his face on actions until he stops and stares at me questionably.

I flip him over onto his back and kiss him passionately this time, tickling his abs with filed nails and then jump tersely off the bed and scuttle to the nearest item of clothing I can find.

He lies down, ironed out over the bed, revealing a bit of fleshy outer thigh. "You can't just leave me hanging like this!" he cries with a sneer grin.

I peck his nose and open the door, bra in hand. The realisation that I haven't told him my _big news_ yet hits me like a stab in the back. "I have rehearsals to get to as do you." With a smile I flash some of my thigh that reveals a grin on his face then leave the room with a soft closing of the door.

But the thing is - I don't have rehearsals.

I told Julie my request, she agreed and it's final… I'm leaving in 3 days; permanently.

…

It was quite a severe decision but it's senseless to stay – being taunted by Eliza 24/7, hiding in secret, the Kian situation, me and George forever getting into arguments over nothing which just throws us apart. And besides, I've been offered a position in North London at a dance agency which can get me all sorts of roles. It's for the best.

And If I leave, me and George can have a break.

Of course I still want to be with him. I love him. And we can still see each other even though it'll be hard.

But it's worth it. I know it is. I just need to convince _George_ that it's worth it.

…

When I enter my dorm, Merissa is waiting for me on my bed, sorting through my assembly of nail varnishes.

Her eyes light up when she sees me. "What happened?! You don't look _that_ distraught?"

"Please, Merissa." I sigh and collapse onto her bed, next to mine.

"What? It didn't go so good? Oh crap." Her voice is hoarse as she comes to sit next to me, taking my hand.

I pause as she squeezes my palm tightly.

Rolling over in shame I whisper; "I didn't tell him…"

"Aw Frankie honey, why?"

I roll my legs tightly into a ball. "I couldn't bring myself to. It was one of the most amazing evenings we've spent together." I stutter. "How could I?"

"Sweetie, it may have been an amazing evening but I'm sure he would've understood." She takes my face to look at her. "He probably would've ensured your last night together was a wild one" she winks at me with this.

I can't help but laugh then swat her away.

I choke out these words with feverish grief. "Merissa… he said he loved me."

There's an edgy silence. "Day-um." Is all she can say.

"Double damn" I squirm.

"I'm sorry honey but you have to tell him soon. You only have two days."

I cry an exaggerated moan.

"But anyway, you can't mope around here all day. Get yourself changed and we'll find something to do alright?" I have to agree with her. Moping won't do me any good.

….

It takes me an hour to get ready in between slacking sobs and regrets. I should've told him. I need to tell him.

But it's a unanimous vote, I will tell him today, him and others – kian to be completely honest.

I wonder how he will take it.

Bearing his ultimate love for me by trying to kiss me and then I tell him that I'm leaving because of the boy he hates the most.

"Frankie will you hurry up please…" Merissa disturbs me.

I make some kind of sarcastic moan and head towards her. "Calm down hoe, I _a__m_ having a midlife crisis here if you didn't realise."

"Yeah, yeah. Just lock the door will you?"

I shove her playfully into the door frame just as Johnny totters past with his big ego hanging over his shoulder. "Ooh cat fight, when do you start stripping?" He smiles smugly before leaning on the wall next to us.

"Hil-arious, really." I reply.

He eyes me up and down with a stern face then smiles when he sees Merissa fiddling with the door handle edgily.

"What's _your_ problem?" he asks.

She spits; "you, actually."

He laughs at this, and then brings his eyes back to me. "Kian is looking for you. In the lobby I think."

"_Aw_ you came all this way just to tell me that?" I use a childlike voice, frowning at him.

"Mmm, but to be honest, I think you could do better."

"What do you mean?" I wince.

He leans closer and whispers "Someone like me, that's what I mean."

"Oh don't flatter yourself." Merrisa interrupts strictly. She goes bright red afterwards.

"Feisty one we've got here." He laughs slightly then shrugs, heading for his dorm further down the corridor.

"See you later then" he echoes behind us.

When he's gone, me and Merissa burst out into giggles.

"Ugh, I hate that boy." She says with pity.

"Oh, okay..."

She looks at me amused.

"_ooh don't flatter yourself."_I mock her words, waving my arms.

"Oh shut up miss "_aw baby_ _you came all the way to tell me that"_, you're just as bad!"

I spit out a laugh "I didn't say baby!"

We start shoving each other as we get into the lift and end up slouched on the floor with tears in our eyes.

I know she secretly is smitten for _Johnny__, _but she won't admit it.

Maybe when I'm gone, she might be more confident to talk to him as I won't be there to wind her up. I know she can do better, but I can tell by the way she looks at him that he could make her happy.

…

When we come out the lift, chaos has erupted like lava into the lobby.

There are broken vases, crimpled papers spread throughout the floor like litter which I recognise as tourist pamphlets from the front desk, rushing crowds and hectic cleaners attempting to keep the peace whilst tidying.

I catch Kian in the far corner with two girls. We hurry over.

"What the fuck is going on?" I have to howl for him to hear.

He looks at me with irritation. "Your bo – " He pauses. "George. That's who."

"George?" I still yell. "What? Why?"

"I thought you could tell me. Security found him lying on the floor of a greenhouse out on a balcony about five minutes ago. God knows how he found a greenhouse. But anyway, before that, Katie" pointing to a round faced brunette he stands next to "found him shaking in the elevator with tears streaming down his face. She was trying to comfort him but next thing you know, he flipped and started attacking anyone near him. And then…" He buffs out his hands to imply that this is what he created. A lobby full of shattered art and paper.

Merissa throws me a concerned look. We both know it.

He must've found out.

"He can't have found out" she's shaking her head distraught.

My whole body is shaking. It's a marvel that I have kept my tears back this long. But I can't anymore. They flood out of me like ants from a nest, tracing murky lines down my face. I collapse into Kians arms and he sits me down, leaning on a wall.

Merissa hoists hair out of my face to keep them from getting caught in dampened teary trails.

"shhh. It's okay honey. He might not know. It could be… something else?" she whispers into my ear. It's comforting to think about but the tears won't stop.

"What might he know?" Kian brusquely intrudes.

I shake my head and Merissa along with me.

….

I spend a good hour slouched there. People come and go. Tillie and Merissa swap shifts with me. Kian keeps asking the question. I keep shaking my head.

It's not until the lift arrives on the ground floor, across the foyer for the 9th time and a girl with dirty blonde hair and a complacent smirk on their face comes out that I realise something. I have to find George.

I struggle up, sprint across freshly polished floor tiles and whip Elizas neck with the lower part of my arm so that she's pinned to the wall.

She tries to scream but it comes out as a gurgle. I'm probably strangling her.

I pinch my face close to her cheek "What did you tell George?" I am firm and dominant.

She doesn't reply. I push harder until she squirms with closed eyes.

"_You're leaving__ him__."_ I barely hear her over my own pulsing head. Kian has grabbed me by the waste now, pulling me into him hard.

"NO" I scream.

Eliza falls to the floor, panting heavily.

"IT'S HER FAULT! THE BITCH!"

She looks up at me and attempts a smile. This makes me feel even more violent, lashing my arms in front of me in an attempt to murder her.

"Frankie please. Calm down." Kian speaks into my ear lightly.

I follow his orders. He has this intense supremacy over me.

"He knows." She coughs out.

"How did _you_ know?" I speak with authority, trying to keep serene.

She taps her nose with a smile.

I try to lunge at her then because of the mock but Kian holds me back again.

"I overheard you in your dorm. To be honest, I was only listening out for proof that you and George were still _on it__." _Sheflinches in pain and holds her neck. "Found out more than I had bargained for."

I spit at the floor in front of her and shake Kian off.

When I turn around, Julie is scolding and pointing fiercely in the distance at someone being held by two broad security guards like they would if you were being arrested.

He has tassled, chocolate brown hair, golden skin, a long, oozing scar trailing from his eyebrow to lip and two, sorrowing, soggy eyes.

They look at me briefly, and as they do, a tear trickles down from the right eye.

Julie then cakes my view and the boy is dragged away. A door closes behind them.

….

I heard once that if the first tear comes from your left eye, its happiness, but if it's from your right eye, sorrow.

….


	15. Chapter 15

It's a funny thing, love. Like, given the option this time last year of living in this

situation right now, or having an unlimited supply of money and food for until I die, I would've chosen the unlimited option. But now I'm here and I've witnessed it first hand, I choose this. That's the thing; no-one can understand love but you. Just as Kian proved to me as I was dragged away by similar security guards that George had– "He's not worth it!" Kian yelled. I shook my head and mimed "He is", after a long pause he replied - "I don't understand."

I know Kian, you don't understand. Only I do.

…..

I'd give anything to see George again. He may hate me now, disagree with my actions but I don't care, he can scold me and ignore me but I will keep trying to get him back.

Though, given the situation, that's going to be incredibly hard as Julie is keeping me confined like she did with Kian because of my "aggressive, violent behaviour."

She has also summoned me to _leave_ ASAP.

I don't have 3 days anymore, I have 15 hours.

15 hours to find George and tell him I'm sorry and I'm leaving.

Obviously he knows I'm leaving _now_, but Julie made sure to inform me that no-one knows I'm leaving tomorrow except her, my mother and myself.

Tillie and Merissa will be devastated.

…

9:47pm. 12 hours-ish. Visiting time is up in half an hour. I don't expect to get anyone, Tillie and Merissa saw the state I was in and everyone else is probably scared of me. And of course, George is somewhere on the other side of the building, in a similar room to me, waiting for the morning.

The room is cold. Window shut but condensing on the inside creating a mist.

The smell of stone and metal is excruciating.

I've planned on escaping for just enough time to see George and tell him without Julie noticing.

But she's made sure that security doesn't let me out of their sight.

Just a little bit brutal for a group of dance academics, don't you think?

But none the less, I will try.

I could say I need the toilet, remind them that privacy for a female is important and scare them silly with feminine hygiene issues. Maybe they'll give me some space.

Maybe not.

There's a knock, echoing through the room and piercing my ears.

"You've got 5 minutes. I'll be listening so watch your words." It's the security guard.

A flock of blonde locks come through the door. For a sudden moment, I think its Eliza and anger bubbles inside me. But they wouldn't be stupid enough to let her near me. Instead, I'm surprised and slightly relieved to see Johnny.

He eyes me up and down then creases his nose.

"Do I really look that bad?"

He sighs sarcastically. "It's freezing in here."

"You don't say." I reply. We eye each other for a while, deciding who's to speak next. "What're you doing here?" I ask.

"Wanted to see how you were. I missed all the action earlier."

"Well, to fill you in, George hates me, I love him, Eliza is a bitch, I displayed my feelings for her and now I'm trapped in here. Is that ok?"

He doesn't laugh emotionlessly like I thought he would; only looks at me like a man would look at a small child.

"You don't have to be so foul." My anger for Eliza is outspoken on him.

Pause - "I'm glad you did it." He finally speaks.

I look at him questionably.

"I hate Eliza too." He whispers.

I can't help but laugh. "Not your cup of tea ey?"

"No, not really."

We smile at each other smugly. We know what each other is thinking. Merissa.

….

"Anyway, I bought you something." He fingers a packet of oreos.

"Oreos, really?"

"They're not from me, they're from _Merissa_." He says her name like he's scared it'll reveal his secrets.

Merissa? I don't have some un-renounced love for oreos and we don't have some private joke about them either. Maybe she's just hoping that they'll cheer me up.

"Thanks, I guess."

"It's ok." He looks at me then mimes "_open"_

I realise now that he's miming because of the guard outside "listening in".

I nod then open the packet.

A shard of yellow paper pokes out from beneath the first oreo.

I keep clear of the guards view point then open the slip.

It has her neat, elongated writing upon it, scribbled in very small letters–

_I know you're leaving tomorrow (It's a long story) but I know. _

_I've figured that you want George to know about it & I would've told him myself but they won't let anyone visit him. But I do know that Julie is letting him out at 10:15 to get a meal from the hall. He'll be alone. But you'll only have 15 minutes. Johnny will help you get to him._

_Good luck, I love you, Merissa x._

That sly little girl. I feel like I'm part of a spy mission to escape from prison. But to be honest, this is like prison.

Johnny nods at me defining that he already understands his role then taps his watch. It's 9:58. The guard has let us have more time than need-be which is surprising, seeing as he's under Julie's rules.

But then I realise that the guard has disappeared.

I look to Johnny. He nods again and stands up from the edge of my bed.

We peer out, through frozen walls. The guard is across the hall in deep conversation with a bright eyed girl who looks twice as mature for her age as she probably is.

She scans over us for a second before stepping closer to the man. It's then that I realise its Merissa. She's had her hair straightened to a pulp, a face full of makeup and her boobs are on show.

I've never seen her boobs before but now I see why she keeps them hidden. She'd be a human man magnet if not.

I shake my head at her with a broad smile. She is unbelievable.

But before she can respond, Johnny grabs my arm and we run quietly across the foyer and into the kitchen hall.

Its pitch black. No-one is in here.

We're on time though – exactly 10:00pm.

It's not like Julie to be off schedule.

Johnny summons me into the corner of the room, behind a table and whispers "I'll be outside when you're done." He's about to leave when I tug him on the sleeve. "Look after Merissa ok?" I whisper. He nods longingly then exits through a side door.

I'm lonely in here, can hardly see the other side of the hall that it scares me silly.

But before long, lights that hang from the ceiling come to alert, blinding me one by one.

I become dizzy. I blink and see dots. I blink and see two figures walking along the edge of the hall, too far away to distinguish.

Their feet echo around me.

I clutch onto the table to keep steady and eventually, my eyes focus.

One disappears; the other takes a seat in the corner to my left. I recognise George now.

My heart does a backflip and a cartwheel in one as Goosebumps start to prick my skin.

I stare down at my hands that have now become clammy. I've lost the nerve to talk to him.

Come on Frankie, you've got to do this. You lov- "I know you're here." A voice.

Is it in my head? Can't be.

I turn to George who sits a good 7 rows ahead.

He's staring directly at me, spooning casserole into his mouth.

I blink irrepressibly.

He still stares then drops his spoon into the bowl and places his hands heavily on the table. Its legs clang against wooden flooring. He stares at me.

I find power to stand up, holding onto the table and walls around me then slowly tip-toe towards him.

I take a seat opposite him, glaring around the room encase of anyone who could pounce on me. Then direct my eyes at him.

His bowl exerts swirls of Smokey air.

"I'm sorry." Is all I manage to mumble out.

"For what?" He still stares at me. Chocolate eyes oozing into my soul.

"For not telling you sooner"

Neither of us speaks. His skin looks darker in this light, yet paler. His eyes are murky.

"Why didn't you?" he mumbles with no expression.

"Because, I _love_ you."

He drops his eyes from mine and hits his spoon with a fist. It clatters to the floor. He doesn't even flinch. "Are you sure about that?"

I find supremacy to raise my voice slightly. "How can you question that?"

We meet eyes. "Because I don't believe you." He replies gruffly.

"George." I try to swallow but my throat is dry. "You have to understand, I had no intention of hurting you. I only decided on leaving last week and I wanted to tell you but then we had that amazing evening and-"

I hold my head in my hands, away from him. "Eliza." Is all I can say.

"What?" he snaps.

"Eliza. You listened to her, _again_."

"Well she wasn't lying this time." The echoing room makes his voice loud.

His body is tense. I wish I could touch him, hold him.

"It wasn't hers to tell." My voice is stubborn. "I was on my way to find you."

"Well bad luck." He spits.

"You're a twat." I scowl at him, getting ready to leave. "Oh and F.Y.I, I'm leaving tomorrow. But I'm sure you don't give a shit." I stand up stubbornly, knocking my chair over.

A distant voice from the other side makes my skin crawl. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Fucking fantastic, Julie is here.

"I was just, leaving" I shout through watery eyes.

"I don't care if you were _just __leaving,_ you shouldn't be here. I warned you."

At that moment, two security guards stampede in. One of which is my protector who Merissa was flirting with.

I see her in the distance behind the door, clutching onto Johnny. She looks bewildered and tries to murmur something to me about being sorry.

Johnny had to drag her away.

…

A rough hand strangles my wrist.

"Let go of me!" I try to scream with stubborn anxiousness.

"Take her back to the room Mike." Julie.

A tear trickles down crevices of my face. I give in.

"No!" I think I hear a voice. But if I did, it sounded weak and desperate.

There it is again, but louder. "NO!" It's George's voice.

I whip my head up viciously and search for him.

He's in the same spot behind a bowl of cool casserole, but he's standing.

"Please, I want to talk to her." His voice is quiet and distant. He clenches his fists in and out, brown skin tinging with passion. He bites his bottom lip so that only the top lip is seen.

"George, you are treading on very thin ice may I remind you. Any more out bursts and I will have to re-consider your position here." Julie harasses.

He sighs and opens his mouth for speech.

"No more please." She interrupts.

We lock eyes for what feels like days.

He signals the letter "C" with his hand, points to _me_ then mimes "_tomorrow_".

I think he means he wants to talk before I leave. I can't deal with that.

I shake my head at him, and then lead myself out of the hall.

I hear a sob behind me and a distant whisper of "But I love you."


	16. Chapter 16

This cab smells like sick. It leaves a thick, vulgar fog in the air which makes me feel like I'm drowning.

Ironically, I dreamt I was drowning last night. George took me to the beach but he dragged me under the water and when I finally got his grip off me, I had no energy to swim back up. Ended up waking panting and sweating like no other.

That's why I'm late today. Instead of leaving at 10am which was planned, I left about 5. Complaining of cramps and sickness.

"Can we open a window?" I ask.

The driver, whom is a middle aged, maybe once good looking male because of his green eyes, edges his head round slightly to get better hearing. "Sorry love?"

"Window?" I mime being hot by fanning myself.

He nods and the window next to me edges open by a few cm. I press my face up to the crack, it may be raining but each speck feels like a drop of ecstasy.

So much for "pathetic fallacy" as my English teacher states it. (When the weather in a book represents the mood of the scene). I may be dreary and cold hearted, but I'm in love and full of life.

I try to ignore the piercing pricks of cushion springs in my backside from ageing seats and the boundless, aching feeling that I may have actually lost George.

Last night keeps replaying in my head though - his screams of "No" and the agony of his eyes. I can always tell when he's not himself because his eyes change. They're usually a dark chocolaty brown but they turn grey in anger and desperation or a bright caramel for lust and passion. I've had equal experience of both, unfortunate or not.

And the thought that he whispered "_But I love you", _did I imagine that too, such as I imagined his wailing "NO!" I don't know anymore. In some ways, I wish I hadn't imagined it but in others, I wish I had. I wish I had because I don't want to think that he's forgiven me already because then I'll stay attached. I don't think I can live with myself if I spend maybe the most important part of my life attached to a boy band member.

A stunning, toned, tanned, polite, caring, embracing, deep, guitar playing boy band member with a voice like warm toffee and a face like mocha.

….

I think the cab driver felt my pain as he only charged me £12 for the journey to the station which should've been more like £20. I thank him and tug on my coat closed. My hair is sure to get wet but I don't care anymore.

The traffic was fierce so I have to walk a little to get to the station. The rain pellets my face, not much like ecstasy anymore unfortunately.

People rush around like scavenging ants as the rain gets heavier. My hair creates the illusion of teased dreads because of the humid conditions which is just _brilliant_.

The station isn't as comforting as I thought it would be, it's dry but the floor is sleeked in muddy prints and the air is sticky.

My train has 20 minutes until departure. 20 minutes to mourn over leaving George. It may be harder than I thought. Probably end up running back to the studios and attacking him with love.

I wouldn't have done that before I met him but he's changed me - for the good? Who knows?

…

My phone rings. For a second, I think it may just be George but that would be impossible. I swipe it open and see "Kian" glowing up the screen with a close up mug-shot of his face that he took himself.

I never said goodbye. I don't know if I'm ready for this conversation. But before I can answer, the ringing stops… then starts again.

Is he really calling me again?

I feel an urge to click decline but there's no need for me to be bitchy. I click accept and make my way outside partly, to hear him better.

"H-hello?" a croaky and dazed voice booms through.

It takes me a while but I speak up; "Hey Kian."

"Where the fuck are you?!" he kicks in attentively.

I don't reply.

"Merissa told me you left this morning? Tell me it's not true Frankie."

I can't reply, again.

"Answer me, please." He sounds distraught.

-"I can't do this Kian." Is all I say.

"Do what exactly?"

I choke out -"Have this conversation".

There's a moment of silence before he stammers - "You left because of George, didn't you?"

"Don't get onto this Kian, ok?"

"No Frankie, I've had enough. You either tell me what's going on, or I swear, I'll have no reason to ever talk to you again."

His stubbornness shocks me. "What do you want to know?" I declare.

He cackles a bit then speaks up. "Why are you leaving?"

"There are many reasons Kian", I sob.

It sounds like he curses under his breath and then sighs. "Fine, when did you decide to leave?"

"Last week. But it had been on my mind for almost a month."

He stays silent then moans out; "_Why_ did you leave today and _without_ telling me?"

"That was Julie. I wanted to leave in two days but then I attacked Eliza and she sent me home. No-one knew, not even George."

He sighs again. "Did you decide to leave because of George?"

I inhale deeply. "Yes, partly." I think I hear him stutter a bit after that but he doesn't say anything. "But mainly because of Eliza. I couldn't live with her threatening me twenty four, seven-"

"You could've come to me you know!" He interrupts. "She wouldn't dare step near you after I finished with her." He sounds frantic.

"Yes and get yourself expelled whilst giving her a black eye. How mature."

"You make me sound so vicious." I think I hear slight humour in his voice. Maybe he's forgiving me.

"You are a little bit scary though." I tease.

"Hey Frankie, do me a favour?" he remarks.

"I'm listening."

He pauses then rumbles out; "Turn around."

As I turn, I see him standing in a glistened puddle, holding the phone to his ear almost 3 metres in front of me.

Rain splutters on his coat, dashing off like the raging cars behind him.

He hobbles towards me with a sheepish smile on his face. I can tell he's trying to act angry with me but it's not working.

We exchange awkward eye contact. "Come here you." I say.

He rushes into me and lifts me up into a hug. It somehow doesn't feel romantic at all, more like when you hug your father after a weekend away.

My face gets drenched with the remaining droplets on his shoulder.

He links my arm and leads me inside a bit more.

"How did you know?-" I question.

"A little birdie." He replies complacently. "Anyway, you're not getting off that lightly, I still have enquiries of you."

I groan sarcastically. "Fine."

He places me, back against the road as I was a minute ago, him facing outwards.

"Be honest, were you going to tell me?"

"Don't be stupid! Of course." I stare at my shoes guiltily. "Just needed to tell George first, that's all."

"And you couldn't because.."

"Because a little bitch got in there first." I dictate.

"Eliza?"

"Yes."

He stares at me repentantly. "I'm sure George would understand."

"It's a little late for that now." I weep.

He brings me to face him; "What do you like about him?"

I mien at him hesitantly. "I'm not in the mood for your jealously Kian, no offence."

"No, seriously, I didn't mean it as a judging remark. I'm just curious."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Please" he begs.

I exhale with exaggeration. "Well first of all, he's fucking sexy." I tease. Kian manages to laugh though. "No really, he's just like, one of the most caring, loving, appreciative, deep, gorgeous" I pause, scanning Kians face. He still seems interested. "Amazing, talented, loving and most the most remarkable boy I've ever met."

He looks at me with gratitude. I can tell he tinges with jealousy but he also feels sorry for me. "And do you love him?"

I nod. He looks at me deeply, encouraging me to speak up.

"Yes Kian. I love him. I love him so much it hurts."

He still looks at me, but he doesn't look penitent anymore. He looks proud.

Then almost abruptly, my heart stops beating. No wait, it skips a beat and starts to beat uncontrollably as a soft, graceful voice behind me sings with the tune of the rain and hums out "really?"

I close my eyes, treasuring this moment - treasuring the sound of rain pattering down behind me.

Treasuring the thought that _George_ is _right_ behind me, _right_ now.

I treasure the moment I turn around and finally open my eyes to see him - a glowing beacon of hope and love in a mid-sunset light.

He stands with his hands to his sides, peaking out of a navy duffle coat, grey scarf whipped around his neck like a lose ribbon. His hair is showered in droplets of rain, scattered like falling glitter. Cheek bones edge out of his skin, frail but glowing with passion and trailing down, I see his perfectly formed lips. The scar I met yesterday peaks out of skin from behind a whip of hair.

A tear falls from my eye - from my left eye.

I nod to him and mime the single, most purest word – "yes".

He closes his eyes then, only for a second, like a long awaited blink. When they open, the corners of his lips meet his cheeks.

He smiles. He smiles with glee. I exert hope, happiness, and hunger.

Neither of us moves for a while then. It doesn't seem right. But then, as if in sync, we both move. We move fiercely. Passion and cravings edge us towards each other.

That's one thing I realise instinctively, that I do love George because otherwise, I wouldn't have ran to him. Just as moments ago, Kian came to me and I let him.

But this time, I go to George and George, he comes to me.

I don't even realise when I reach the boarder of the train station and scattered diamonds blur my vision.

All I can think is "_George_".

_George, George, George, George. _

_George._

George is in front of me now. He reaches out to grab my hands as if in slow motion. I didn't realise I had ended up chanting his name.

"Yes?" he asks quietly with a teary throat. Instead of grabbing my hands, he moves them to each side of my face. They land softly on my skin and electricity pulses between each finger.

"I – I love you." I murmur.

He kisses my nose delicately and laughs tenderly. His voice travels through my body like velvet.

He leans into the right side of my face, where there's nothing to block my hearing. His lips swipe over my jaw and eye lashes flutter onto the bare undercut of my cheekbones. I get goose bumps wherever he touches me. "I love you too Frankie. I really do." He says it like a vowel, edging through my veins and organs, into my toes, my fingers. My body rings.

Before I can process this individual moment, his lips are on mine. So close that I can see each quality of his face in depth, like the ditches where his eyes meet his cheek and his thick, curving eye brows in how they meet the edges of his coiled fringe hair.

He is beautiful.

…

I let my hands travel to his neck and back, holding on for dear life.

He clasps my face intensely now, as if cradling it.

I let his lips explore mine; explore my cheeks, jaw and neck.

The rain makes our bodies and faces shimmer. It makes our kiss clammy, clammy with emotion.

This is my second kiss with him in the rain. It's even better than the first.

I wish I could endeavour every moment.

…

The kiss slows down. It was powerful and eager before but now we both sob. It's hard to tell because of the patter of rain on his skin, but I assume he is tearing just as much as me.

He embraces my chin in his hands and rubs circles over my cheeks with his thumbs. He presses his forehead to mine, we close our eyes as he kisses my nose and cheeks randomly, flattering me.

My tears are a mixture of happiness and sadness because I love him and I love this moment, but I know what comes next.

I open my eyes and press my lips to his forehead. We lower our hands, gripping urgently to each other.

The rain slows down, only producing waves of moisture here and there.

Droplets proceed to flitter down his face though, puddling off his jaw.

"What now?" he asks miserably.

"Well I've missed my train." I mock.

He sniggers a little, and then meets my eyes. I catch a real tear jitter down his face.

"I don't want you to leave." He sobs.

"I have to, you know that."

He kisses my cheek. "You don't though. Stay with me."

"Julie kicked me out George."

"I know, but we can stay somewhere else. We only have 3 weeks left, if we make it to the final anyway." He murmurs.

"It's not that easy George." I squeeze his hands hard. "I have an offer at a dance school. I start next week."

He shakes his head. "We can make it work." He looks at me fervently. "Isn't that what you want?"

I squeeze his hands again. "Of course that's what I want! It's just going to be difficult, that's all."

He weeps a little – closing his eyes.

"I know. But – "holding my waste to bring me closer; "I can't bear to lose you again. I've been completely over-reacting about everything that happens because I'm scared Frankie." He winces. "So scared."

In a sudden outburst, I grab his face brutally and kiss him with desire.

He mirrors me and flexes his hands on the lower of my back.

When we pull away I just stare at him.

He has started to cry again. Not the weeping cry, just the trickling, uncontrollably tears that seep from your eyes.

I kiss them away and he pulls me to him for a hug.

I berry myself in his neck, inhaling the soft scent of aftershave, blossoms and London fumes.

I check the time on my phone and he sighs as I do.

"The last train home is in 10 minutes, I can't miss this one George."

He sniffles. "I know, I know."

I frown into his eyes, one last time. They glint caramel.

"Look after yourself" I command, kissing his cheek.

Kian comes besides us. I forgot he had been standing there all this time. He must feel so uncomfortable.

"Sorry" he mutters. "I was listening in, thought I should say goodbye."

George swipes his hand in a motion as if accepting Kian and he steps back.

I grab him sternly and hold him tight. "Thank you Kian. So much." I hold one of his hands. "You're an amazing friend."

He smiles and lets my hand go.

"And you too, are an amazing friend. Keep in contact, yes?"

I smile and nod before he and George exchange manly pats and he walks away- into the darkness of a December night.

"Thanks for being civil" I say to George.

"He's not _that_ bad." He replies.

We laugh together. Maybe the last laugh I will share with him.

"Keep safe Frankie. We _will_ make it work, I _promise_." He whispers into the crevice of my neck.

I can't say anything less I burst out into tears.

He understands, squeezing my hand tightly and kisses me on the lips suddenly, softly, sensationally.

"I love you." He purrs.

He may promise to make it work, but I don't think it will.

Not because he won't try, but because there's no way we can try hard enough.

"I love you." I reply through watery eyes and a murky voice.

I love you and _goodbye_ George.

…..

Thank you guys for following this story along and supporting me with your comments and such :-)

Unfortunately it's over but...

**I'M DOING A SEQUEL.**

Because of vast demand, I have decided to start a sequel and complete it on this same fanfic so the next chapters will be part of that. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story :-)


	17. Sequel - Chapter 1

**Welcome to the Sequel :-)**

….

"George Shelley, teenage heart throb is officially taken." Etica Bowen writes in the latest issue of Teen Now.

I didn't want to think about it, but grabbing my usual chicken mayo sub for lunch by the co-op, he was looking at me. That smug expression all pop magazines use on their "heart throbs".

I had to buy it seeing as the caption was "No more Mr Shelley", I hadn't thought it was him being taken, more of him leaving the band. I guess not.

I read on though – "Fans saw him holding a young brunettes hand eagerly last Christmas but she seemed too had disappeared since… until now." The picture is small but from the back I can easily make out my long waved hair and burgundy coat. Seems me and George weren't as safe as we thought. The next picture unfortunately isn't me; a girl in tight, white crochet pants waddles along beside him with the same waved hair as me but she's far too tall to be me and George for that matter.

They don't hold hands like we did, but I feel a pitiful sense that they're an item.

"The last of the union J boys are taken, RIP all fans around the world, good luck to them all" - Labels the bottom of a group picture on a red carpet event. George on the far right in a dark silk tux and a bow tie I scarcely remember as the one he wore on our first date.

I attempt throwing the magazine in the nearest bin but falls aimlessly beside it. I don't bother picking it up.

…

Where George is concerned, we haven't spoken in 2 months (March) to be exact. He tried to keep in contact, phoning me every other day to keep each other updated. I even invited him to a new year's party but he denied because the band were expected elsewhere. Next day's pictures proved he got more than he bargained for with his arm round a girls waste and groping another.

Then I brought it up, we had an argument, didn't speak for a month.

He tried to apologise after that but the calls slowed down and then stopped, so here we are.

Of course I am still feebly in love with him but I also hate him.

I'm sure he's moved on though – show business giving him opportunities with other girls as I've been proved today.

None the less, I'm still just as close with Tillie and Merissa - Tillie in fact coming to join my dance academy next month.

Tillie told me not long after New Year that whilst the shows continued after I left, George changed so much. He was almost administered medication for depression until Julie demanded it was un-necessary and could affect his voice.

_And_ she told me he was obviously hopelessly in love and wouldn't talk to anyone except me – which would explain the eagerly awaited, 2 hour phone calls. They also attended the same new years' party which may have fused our break up. Apparently he said he wanted to drink until he couldn't remember my name and then threw himself on those girls.

I told them that it's not an excuse although deep down I understood – sounding something like my new year besides the "throwing myself on the opposite sex" part.

But here we are, devastated, lonely and never able to forget about George Shelley because the press seem to be directly aiming their George stories at me.

What a life I live.

…

Andy mopes past me at his usual time, bags drooping under his eyes on mature, groomed skin - we be-friended each other on the first day of Dance Academy. I immediately knew he was gay when he grasped my wrist saying "Seeing as you're a loner too, we can stick together" then he winked at me.

It was brusque but I soon learnt how sarcastic and hilarious he was.

"Morning sexy" he murmurs into a yawn.

I pass him the sandwich I take the courtesy of buying him every morning, and him my coffee. "Your bags are showing again."

"Babe when my hair is this good, my bags don't matter" – he says passing me a still hot costa cup.

As vain as it sounds, he's right – usually he lets his blonde locks curl naturally and hang lose but today it's straight and sleek with a side fringe that takes him the most time to style.

"You're upset, what's wrong?" he utters.

"I'm upset?" I try to lie.

"Don't double question me." he wiggles his finger. "I've known you long enough to figure out if you're having mood swings or if it's genuine and this honey – Is genuine."

I sigh and point to the magazine which is a few feet from us, its pages crumpled in the wind.

Andy leans over it, one hand on his hip, the other grasping a latte. "What do they mean?"

"They mean – he's got a new girl and they had the cheek to post a picture of me and him in winter because apparently I look like her."

"And you're pissed because…"

I sigh again. "Because – because, she.."

"Because you don't like the thought of him being over you." He interrupts.

I nod and try to sip my coffee as we make our way to the ageing building that is our academy.

"Story of my life honey" he says whilst linking my arm in his. "Say we get drunk tonight to get your mind off it, ey chikka?"

I smile in agreement.

…

Stepping through the academy doors, the familiar scent of mature oak lingers, the walls looking as though they belong in a mid-century library by the dreariness of them – none the less, the ceiling is a delicate 1900's design with gold encrusts, far too refined for us but a pleasant welcome.

"Oh I almost forgot" Ryan states as he swivels me round to face the door we just entered and through polished teeth he says - "I've got a surprise for you!"

"I'm not in the mood for _surprises_ today Andy" I groan.

"No, no" he puts a finger to my lips – "You'll definitely enjoy this one, now close your eyes."

It all goes black as he nudges me back a little and whispers too quiet for me to hear but I feel someone else in front of me.

"Open" he whispers.

I don't know what or who I was expecting really but the silky, straight black hair and piercing blue eyes staring back at me make my eyes water.

"TILLIE!" I yell blissfully.

The next thing I know, I can feel her clutching my back and my tears rain onto her cotton blouse without control.

"What're you doing here?!"

"I came early! I wanted to surprise you so found Andy's twitter and asked him to help me."

I grasp Andy's shoulders and pull him in for a 3-way hug. "Thank you so much Ands. I really needed this."

…..

We talked for hours in between dance practise and schedules to realise how much I've missed her.

We even talked about George for a while and agreed that it was better to give up, as much as I don't want to, I know I should.

"And as a singleton celebration" Tillie said – "we should all go out later and get smashed off our heads!"

"That is exactly what I said earlier!" Kian interrupted as usual.

So it was agreed, an evening of heavy booze and social dancing with strangers.

….


	18. Sequel - Chapter 2

Foggy, alcoholic, dewy air dances with the flashing lights of this club. The beat is so heavy that I can feel the ends of my hair bouncing but can't hear my wedged heels on this metallic floor which would usually be that of an echo.

I've been dancing for what feels like days but is more like hours. I was determined to leave a half hour ago but Tillie and Andy – in their drunken state – convinced me to stay with that I was too sober to make that decision yet. On the contrary, they had a point so I offered to get us another round of drinks.

Once I've made my way through the plait of bodies huddled by the bar, I find an opening and tug on the wrist of a broad male in front of me who stands by the bar like a vertical building. He glares back through charcoal eyes which I ignore and shove past until my hands are on the scattered, foam cup holders that advertise different spirits.

"Two Malibu's with lemon and a shot of tequila please" I say to the green eyed bar-man who seems to be mesmerized by a young blonde round the other side.

"Coming up" he replies, still staring at her – it's surprising I haven't caught him ogling at her tits yet by the size of them.

"_Me__y_ I get that for _ye_?" a tall yet lean Irish man asks to my right. He has intense blue eyes and melodious black hair that could make him attractive – and if he wasn't so skinny, I would've thought he was Kian from behind.

I try to smile but George is disturbing my thoughts every second. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm okay."

He grabs my wrist and I then realise how drunk he is by the intoxicated eyes and musty stench on his breath. "Don't be so naïve princess."

I frown and try to shake it free but he still grasps hard.

"Would you _mind_ letting go." I demand with sarcasm –

"Yes, would you mind letting her go please." A hoarse, honey soothing voice intrudes whilst laying their hand on our padlock of wrist to fingers.

It's the same husky voice that once used to whisper into my hair at night after we made love, the voice that told me their deepest secret, the voice that spoke to me for hours every other night for 3 months in an attempt to earn my trust.

"George?" I utter, hardly making a sound. His eyes are dark and unwavering, edging into my skin like a flame to paper. His caramel complexion still there, binded with the many freckles I let my fingers travel over on a daily bases. His chin is broader though, hair thicker and waved into longer strands.

The irish man lets go, patronized by George's penetrating stare, and then he slowly moves his hand from mine.

_I can't do this_, I think. _Not here, not now._

"I'm sorry" I mutter and before my body registers, I'm shoving people sideways, tripping over stilettoes and nudging into couples engrossed in each other's faces.

When I find the back door, it's so claustrophobic that I think I might faint – again. But a steady arm hoists me up and out the door before I can object.

I crash onto the concrete floor, which has a surprising cool sentiment to it, regardless of its grime and old chewing gum patches staining the surface.

I don't look up to my "saviour"; just stare meaninglessly at my fingernails that are now chipped to oblivion – the red varnish crusting off like paint to an old door frame.

"You didn't owe me an apology you know." It says.

The voice is golden like George's. But serious.

"I didn't apologise." I mumble, creating a haze of cold mist.

"You said _I'm sorry_."

To think of it, I did. But I didn't mean it to be about our relationship, it was meant purely for my exit. I didn't think he'd follow me, so gave it a chance.

"That wasn't for you" - Is all I can think to say.

"Who was it for then?" he imposes with slight aggression.

I look up at him then, bellowing out even more clouds of cold air. He's fidgeting with his legs, holding his arms like a child – but I think it's because of the cold.

I can't help but think how nice it would be to have him hold me, keep me warm… I push the thought away.

"You know George…" I shake my head viciously - "You have such nerve to accuse me of needing to be sorry." I stare at him. "I'm not the one who should be apologising."

He sighs a little and moves closer to me. "I know. I'm sorry – I didn't mean for it to seem like that."

"Well, it hurt George…" – "You hurt me a lot."

…

He collapses next to me without a word. We don't touch, or talk, or move our eyes of direction, we just, sit.

I watch his hair drive through the floats of wind that start to gather – making his hair seem more agile and soft. His eyes reflect the mid-sunset light, making them greener than brown and shine through as vast as the sunset itself.

And every now and then, his hand nudges a little which I think may try to hold mine but then he decides against it. I don't know if it upsets me or not.

…

What feels like an eternity of silence - is broken when he reaches into his pocket with a shuffle and brings out a small, red, velvet pouch that is the size of my palm.

He places it in my hand delicately, assuring not to touch my bare skin with his.

"I brought this for you at Christmas" he says. "A week before new year's in fact."

Neither of us brings up those girls.

"I was planning to give it to you the day after – to show you I still cared and wanted to be with you."

He swallows and turns to face me. "But then we had our argument and, well, you know the rest."

I sob inside my throat. "Why were you carrying it with you here?"

-"This is going to sound weird – but, I knew I couldn't give it to anyone else. I knew it belonged to you and I've been carrying it on me most days, in the hope that I'll bump into you, or someone you're close too that I could pass it on." – "I guess it's my lucky day." I see a small smile, but it goes as fast as it came.

"George.." – "I don't know what to say…" through blurry eyes.

"Open it" he sniffs out.

I do, and my heart jumps from my chest as it unravels in my hand like a scatter of glitter flakes – revealing a silver chain with an encrusted heart upon its chain rings. There's a G on one side, and an F on the other, surrounded by a small fringe of vines.

I close my eyes, deluded in a haze of reality and dream. I want so much to hate this boy, for all he's put me through, and shove his love back in his face. But I can't find it.

The apex of the heart digs into my palm - my clammy hand likely to be misting the surfaces which hold mine and George's names.

I open my eyes just as his pinky finger curls round mine which rests on the floor. I sluggishly turn to face him. His greeny, brown eyes are full of sorrow, and only just realising, right in front of mine which means that, we're kissing.

His lids close, his hand raises to grasp my jaw, and his lips are as soft as I remember – like velvet on bare skin or thin stubble against moisturised finger tips. I grab both sides of his neck desperately. I've been craving this for months.

_For __months_ – whilst he kissed other girls, appeared in magazines with them and without denying the rumours… Whilst he entered my dreams in a mist as quick as he disappeared from my life and ignored my calls. This boy I _called_ my boyfriend, told him I loved him, let him beg for forgiveness, day after day, mistake after mistake. This boy doesn't deserve my kiss; I can't let him hurt me again.

I open my eyes to pale moonlight that could almost make this moment romantic but decide to force his hands away from my face, and lips from lips.

The cold hair pinches at their bare skin which was recently being caressed.

"No George. I can't do this again." And with that, I'm up on my feet. I feel his hand scrape my wrist like rain to glass but he can't hold on and I leave it there.


	19. Sequel - chapter 3

I'm a mess. Sweaty, after party hair, dark circled eyes that could be because of mal-sleep or makeup, or a mixture of both and my skin is flushed hot.

.. "Morning sunshine" It's Tillie, with high spirits which is unusual as I would've thought she'd be hung over like no other. But Andy follows on closely behind her, looking worse than me, his hair a dirty mixture of curly and straight haloed with frizz.

"You look rough" we say in unison which puts a small grin on my face.

"Regardless of that, what was with the swift exit last night franks?" Andy asks. "You were pale as any."

I sigh, remembering how angry I got, it was going so well.

"Where do I start?" I titter.

"Anywhere Darling." Tillie mocks at me, private joke.

I roll my eyes, "Well first of all, some bloke almost attacked me at the bar" I swallow, dreading the thought that George saw that "- and my saviour was the one and only George Shelley." This silences them.

"And the next thing I know, we're outside, I'm heaving at him on how he hurt me, _a lot__" – _"And then what does he go and do?" – "He gives me this fucking necklace with our names engraved on it and tells me he's been keeping it since New Year. I mean, what is this boy on?"

"He brought you a necklace with your names on it?" Andy huffs. "What psycho does that after a break up?"

"It was before the break up Andy – hence "New Year"." I say with sarcasm.

He faffs with some toast then perches on the breakfast bar with Tillie - "Well I still think that's uncanny babe."

"You're telling me." I quip. "That's not the worst of it though – he kissed me and I – basically let him. But then I got angry because, I didn't want to go there with him again."

_As much as I would've loved it._

"So I pushed him away, and ran out."

I can still feel his rose petal lips on mine. I weep inside.

It shouldn't be like this – I wanted our reunion to be special and heart-warming, not full of anger on my behalf. I've probably pushed him away for good now.

"Frankie, frankie?" Tillie chirps. "Are you listening to me?"

_No I wasn't._

"hmm?" I murmur.

She sulks. "I was saying - that you did the right thing. You can't let him control you any longer." She comes to stand near me, empathetic eyes - "But you know, I should've guessed that had happened, because, don't hate me please, but I saw JJ in the bar, and we exchanged numbers."

I'm silent.

I'm not angry, just, confused that whilst she was there getting cosy with JJ, I was having an emotional breakdown and she didn't come to find me.

"Franks?" she sobs.

_Don't hate her Frankie, it's not her fault._

"No honey" I turn to look at her, black hair static on her face. "No, I'm not angry, just confused, that's all."

I take her clammy hand in my palm and squeeze it tight. "I need some air, excuse me."

…

I've never smoked, and never plan too but I can imagine that one would be a delightful de- stressor right now, in this slow, pitiful rain.

The last dosage of rain that I was caught in where I thought of George was leaving the studios to come home, pre-argument jitters and regret of never seeing him again.

How wrong was I – he came to tell me he loved me and basically asked me to live with him. Ironic how both times were the last times I thought I'd see him.

- "_Frankie_", I can hardly hear the voice, thinking it might be the wind. But I turn around anyway to correct myself and see a hysterical Tillie, clutching onto her mobile like it's the last thing she was given before being widowed. I can't tell if she's crying or if it's the rain fogging my view.

I scramble to my feet, pushing back sopping hair that has only just started to flatten with the ever-heavy rain.

"Tillie?" I wheeze from the shock. "What is it?"

"We have to go to the hospital" and then she's gone, turning the corner and grabbing her keys.

Meanwhile Ryan is passed out on the table, a puddle of drool enveloping his chin.

I nudge him awake; he thrashes a little but notices the worry in my eyes.

"We're going to the hospital, you coming?" I say softly, careful not to concern him.

He mimes "what" but can't get any sounds out.

I shrug. "Tillie looks, bad. We better go."

…

She won't speak, no matter how many times we ask. We've learnt to just stay quiet now, let her tell us in her own time and follow her yelp of a trail through various hospital corridors as shoes suffer against polished floors.

We come to a door, third on the left, bright light blaring through its small, square window.

She turns to face us; her eyes aren't red anymore, just her skin which is a sickly pale. Or maybe it's the reflection of _white_ all around us.

"I didn't tell you, Frankie, because I knew you wouldn't want to come." – "But he'd want you to be here." She glares behind us as I hear the silent patter of shoe to floor.

"She came then." It says - I recognise the voice distinctively as Josh's.

Josh. George's friend. My heart stops. I immediately know who's in that hospital room.

..

I hear Tillie screaming my name to stop, that I'm not prepared and a hand grasps my waste to pull me back, but they're too late, I've seen him.

Not that anything could prepare me for this anyway – the maze of pipes and wires, snaking out of machines, one of which pulsing green rays that I realise is his heartbeat, which wouldn't convince me that he was breathing anyway by the paleness of his face and blue veins edging out of skin.

In slow motion, I gasp and groan, my blood pulsing with malice, my hand shaking like a furious wave. I shriek. Fall to my knees as a raincloud erupts in my eyes or Niagara _over_flowing.

Ryan clasps my waste, pulling me into him. He cradles my head in the crevice of his elbow as I cry uncontrollably, lashing my legs. He whispers serenities into my ears but I can't hear them. I can only see George's bedridden body, stale and lifeless. I can't do anything to help him, only wait.

….

I sip on papery water in the corridor outside George's room, sitting on cool, sticky antiseptic seats. Andy is sleeping on the opposite row of seats, not drooling this time and Tillie is in the room next door, faffing over JJ.

JJ was in the _accident_ too.

Apparently George _did_ try to chase me last night, followed us out onto the road. JJ dashed after him when he realised who he was following – they both got caught out by a speeding bus. George was knocked un-conscious, only a foot away from being crushed, whereas JJ got his leg caught.

Josh called Tillie the instant JJ woke because he wanted me to be here when George woke. And of course Tillie would come for JJ anyway; I can tell how smitten she is for him.

But my mind is fuzzing over it all. He could've died. He could've died chasing after me like the oblivious idiot he is.

My oblivious idiot.

…

I dream of the accident, but it's me chasing him this time. When the bus hits, he turns around and smiles. I wake up.

When I open my eyes, Josh is standing by George's door, staring out at me. There's no expression to his face, just his perfect jaw line and ken-like hair.

When I think he might lunge on me for almost killing his best friend, he smiles. "He's woken up." His grin widens. "He wants to see you."

My heart skips and hurdles and spins. He's awake, he knows I'm here; he wants see me.

Within a blink, I'm up and vaulting through his door.

He sits upright now; fewer wires pierce his skin which is settling. A nurse fiddles with a needle next to him as he watches with alarm. When the door shuts behind me with a click, he turns and I see his eyes as clear as ever. Green spiralled with brown, perfect.

"You ready?" the nurse asks tenderly.

We both turn to look at her and George nods.

"Want me to hold your hand?" I tease.

He laughs and says "I would actually." I know he's mocking but I can tell that it would help.

So, for the first time in months, I hold his hand. Really hold it, like we used to. His is cold against mine, but bigger and secure, fitting into place like a puzzle.

When it's over and the nurse is gone, we still hold hands. We talk about yesterday, and I attempt to explain why I had to run.

I think he understands but I don't think he appreciates the sacrifice of getting run over. Regardless, I promise to visit him very day until he's let out, to make up for it.

I'm not sure _what_ we are at this moment. Friends? Ex's? But every evening I leave, I kiss his cheek and he rubs his thumb over my jaw and tells me he looks forward to my visit tomorrow.

But after two weeks, I come back _tomorrow_ and he's not there.


	20. Sequel - chapter 4

I run out into the familiar corridor I've been meandering up for the past 2 weeks in visit. It's empty as usual, the white shadow of floor tiles and paint reflects into my eyes brighter than usual.

I don't understand. George didn't say anything to me yesterday about leaving and even if he forgot, he has my number, he knows I'm here right now, oblivious to where he's gone and why.

_Maybe he's just gone to the loo. Stop over-reacting Frankie._

But the bed sheets are fresh, all his stuff is gone.

_There's no trace of him left at all._

I rush to my right where the corridor sections off into social clinics instead of private ones and scatter as quietly as I can - considering the floor, and come to a small front office. There's a lanky, parched looking man with thick eyebrows that barely give his small eyes room to see resting behind the counter. He hardly flinches when I approach.

"Excuse me; do you have information on the patients in private ward B? I'm looking for a friend."

He glares up slowly; I can tell by the way he does just how exhausted he is. He speaks with no desire. "That information, is prohibited, unless you are family." He drags each word out so meagrely that I could almost strangle him.

I sigh and lean closer with a scowl – "Is there anyone _else_ I can talk to about this?"

He stares at me for a second longer than I would've liked, then I hear a sudden buzz from his right hand. He looks up to me as he says – "Miss Eckleston, there is a young girl out here, asking about Ward B. She wishes, to speak to you." When he finishes, he removes his hand and we suffer in silence for what seems like hours until it's interrupted by a patter of heels in the distance.

As _Miss Eckleston _comes into view, I recognise her immediately – her sweet mousy qualities and short brown hair that I'd grown to know during my time at the Hospital almost a year ago. I'd never known her second name but always thought that "Katie" suited her completely.

As she starts to recognise me, a wide grin forms on her face. "Frankie! What brings you here; I hope you haven't had another fall now?"

The eyebrow man looks us up and down; he's really starting to nerve me but I think Katie realises so beckons me to follow her round the corner.

…

We sit in her office, now that she's been promoted to "head nurse" in simple terms, she wears heels on a daily bases and has her own quarters.

We sip on scolding coffee that's a bit too sour for my liking but I still drink it.

"So honey, what seems to be the problem?" she asks through rosy lips.

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me about a boy in Private Ward B. He is a friend of mine and…" she cuts me off, somehow politely before I could carry on.

"Ah, the young boy who came to visit you last fall?"

I nodded, waiting for her response.

"I do remember seeing him strolling the corridors once or twice, but not recently. What did you need to know?"

"Well, I had been visiting him every day for the past two weeks but this morning when I came to check on him, he wasn't there. All his stuff is gone. I don't see why he wouldn't have told me if he was leaving, you know?"

She studied my face a little, I felt as though she was considering whether to tell me the truth or not. "Frankie, I can trust you can't I?"

I nodded – "Yes, of course."

"Well, Mr Shelley, that's his name right?"

I murmured a _yes_.

"He – how do I put this, he, he was permitted to join a new ward last week. I thought you knew, but he insisted on staying for a couple more days. But then only last night, he asked for us to make his room vacant." She paused to see if I had understood. I placed my thin coffee cup on the desk in front of me.

"You do understand what I'm saying?" she questioned.

I did, but I didn't. If she was suggesting that George has asked to be nursed in a different ward, un-attainable to anyone that he didn't want there, then no, I didn't understand.

"Frankie? Look at me please." I try to, but the pity in her eyes is unbearable. "You do understand I can't tell you where that ward is?"

I shake my head, holding it in my hands. It stretches my neck painfully but I don't care for the pain anymore. "Why did he do this?" I sob. "And what about JJ? He was next door, has he gone into hiding too?"

Katie places her hands near mine, barely touching them. "JJ was sent home yesterday, his injuries were far less serious than George's."

"What do you mean _serious_? What's happened to George?" I utter, my palms sweating under sudden nausea.

She lets out a heavy puff of air, reaching for my hands this time. "He's stable, but there's been a reaction to some medication he's on. He had been refusing it for the past week because he knew it would make him drowsy and forgetful. I guess he didn't want to be like that when you came to visit." I don't reply, waiting for her to continue. "We told him the pain would get worse and he may lose consciousness but he still insisted. It wasn't until yesterday that he decided to go through with the medication but only if, _you_ couldn't visit." She fiddled with our cradled hands. "I guess he doesn't want you seeing him in the position he's at now."

Reaction. Medication. Pain.

_To think of it, these last few days – he had been acting weirdly. I thought he may had been in a little pain but when I asked, he said he was fine and I should stop being peevish. I brushed it off._

Why are you doing this to yourself George? Why are you doing this to _us_?

"When do you think he'll be out?" I whisper through sniffs.

She brings her hands away from mine and looks away, behind me. "I'm not sure. At first it may have been less than 3 weeks, just for basic recovery. But now he has pierced the regime, and the medical reaction – it could be around two months." She sighs. "That's if he takes to the new medication."

I heave through faltered breaths. "What's even happened to him? Why does he need medication?"

"I'm not that sure Frankie. He's not in my department. But I do know that he was terribly close to a coma state. He was extremely lucky." She looks to me. "To ensure he was stable and not likely to fall into anything similar, he would have to be put on medication, and to think that he had broken bones and fractured others, there's a lot of pain killers needed."

I knew he had broken bones, but no one told me he was in a near-coma situation, let alone that he was refusing medication.

I remember one morning; maybe 6 days ago, I walked into his mum leaving the ward. She looked like she was about to faint, didn't even acknowledge me, just walked straight past as if I were a ghost. Then when I went to see George, he had a graveyard of tears stained to his face, even though he refused to admit it. I never asked him about that morning again.

I figure it must've been an argument about his medication and me. If only I knew.

…

5 recent calls to "George" at 11:25am, 11:54am, 12:30pm, 2:03pm, 4:15pm and 3 recent voicemails to "George" – my phone reads. I'd like to call him again but neither one has got an answer so far. I wonder if his phone is at home or something so that he wasn't distracted.

_Unlikely_. He's attached to that phone like glue; I'm surprised he didn't choose it over our relationship when it first started out.

But why isn't he replying to me? At least he could tell me to leave it until he had recovered.

Tillie thinks I should leave it too. He obviously wants privacy and not for me to see him in his state but he could've told me. We were becoming so close – like is used to be. If we were dating then he definitely would've told me_. If we were dating_.

Dating. Oh god, It's improbable, but I think, just maybe, that I've fallen _bac__k_ in love with him. And my senseless mind is wondering why he doesn't want me there with him? He doesn't love me. I was just a friend, helping him along with the pain and loneliness. It must've been too much for him to handle, I came on too strong, and it's obvious now.

…

It's 5:33am, 4 weeks since I've seen George. The vibration of my phone, for a minute, feels like George is ringing me, but obviously I would think it was him.

"Josh" lights up with a mug shot, front view photo of him I promised no one would ever see besides myself.

"Hello?" I utter with sleep.

A frenzied voice breaks through the silence of my room "Frankie, where are you?"

"At home, I was sleeping but..."

"Sorry" he says. "It's just, is George with you?"

"George?" I sigh. "Why would he be with me?" I try to hide the angry sarcasm but I don't think it worked.

"Because…" he pauses, "You know, he's very _fond_ of you. I don't think I need to explain, and besides, he's not at home"

_He's not at home. He's left the hospital_?

"Wait – since when did he leave the hospital?" I ask.

"Maybe, three days ago. He told us he went to visit you."

I gasp, not a shocked gasp, just a disappointed, exhausted gasp.

"Either he died on the way or he lied because I haven't seen him in weeks." I feel the need to end the call but it's not Josh I'm angry with. I need to calm down.

I hear a door open, clinking of keys and drumming of feet. Josh sighs, it sounds like he attempts to cover the speaker, and then there's a muffling of voices. I make out George's whispers and my name is exchanged.

Then there's only silence. I hang up.


	21. Sequel - Chapter 5

"I'm not talking to him. End of conversation."

Tillie sighs and gets up from the breakfast bar to turn away from me. "You mope around here all day complaining that you love him yet you won't let yourself see him."

I stare back at her, wordless.

"Nothing I say will convince you to talk to him, will it?" she says

I shake my head no.

She leaves it at that, exiting through the corridor to her room.

I struggle on some appropriate clothes and tie my hair up to leave the little complex we share, me, Tillie and Andy. The smallness of it only accentuates the claustrophobia. I can't sit in silence for 10 minutes without one of them bringing up George or my depression, it's ridiculous.

…

It may be pre-summer but English weather has never been that promising - especially in spring, so I'm just thankful that there's no wind which makes this walk bearable.

I wander into the park, sitting at the edge of a child play area, leaning back on my elbows and studying those around me.

Children giggle ostentatiously in the park, careless of the world around them. A toddler shuffles through a scanty sandpit full of season petals that have started to fall from the blossom trees above. It could almost be a beautiful day when the sun emerges for minute glimpses at life below and I feel a tingle of warmth on my exposed skin.

I close my eyes flittering away the orange blotches behind my lids like scattered sand. When I open them, it takes a while to adjust to the brightness but even without focusing, I'd recognise that boy anywhere. And to top it all off, he's blocking my escape route - Imagine an island being surrounded by a square of water and having only one bridge off and on the island without trekking into the water - well he sways on the _bridge_ outside the _island_ giving me no option of an exit, merely a decision to run and hide. So that's what I do, like in most situations, I run and hide.

I was too anxious for a game of hide and seek that I didn't even realise the petite brunette he stands with. I recognise her ass. She's the January bud that he was spotted with in "Teen Now" that was apparently meant to be me.

I gag at the sight of them. Not to be a jealous bitch and all, but I really dislike her. And she's literally mounting him like a horse, hands everywhere, her smile a big equestrian grin. And not to mention her "_célèbre dèrriere"_ that's hanging aimlessly out of her shorts like a chicken fillet. It's not summer yet darling.

If George saw me in public wearing them when we were an item, he would've told me to change ASAP.

_You're not an item anymore._

I have to remind myself almost every day that no, we're not an item and yes, George has found a _lover_. But it breaks my heart every time I think of it.

…

They stroll the park, hand in hand. He has one arm in a sling and carries a bit of a limp but otherwise, he looks… _perfect_. His hair is having one of those days where he'll wash it and leave it to wave by itself. He doesn't like it usually but I do – so he would leave it like that just for me. And he wears the shirt I bought him for him birthday last year – a white Calvin Klein polo to emphasize his golden skin and tight sleeves that show off his arms. I wonder if he's wearing the pants too.

As they edge closer, I realise how exposed I am. This tree doesn't hide me as much as I thought it would, so I just slide onto my backside, crouching my knees towards my chest in hope that they walk past and I go un-noticed.

After a few minutes of anguish, I hear a shuffling behind me and George's voice in the distance.

_Shit, he's found me I think._

But the voice doesn't approach me, more like, hovers behind me - "Can we sit?" he says.

There's the sound of rustled leaves, trundling and then silence which I consider is them finally settled. In the moment, the thought that I was actually sitting a mere 2 metres from George, behind him and this girl – didn't seem a big deal. But it's a fucking ludicrous picture. Imagine if he found me, he would've thought I stalked him and ear-wigged in their conversation.

Only one of them is true.

"So George, you were talking about the Brighton Festival and, making us, official." I could hear her naïve smile. She has a sort of croaked voice that still manages to be high pitched and irritating. I wonder if she's a smoker, because that's what she sounds like.

George would collapse at the thought of me smoking. We had an in-depth conversation one night after… _love_, and he explained how much he hated it as did I.

I mean I could bare it if for example – a friend smoked, just as long as it wasn't right in my face. But not George.

"Yeah, you see, I'm not so sure that we're, well, taking that route, anymore. You understand?" He stammers in between his words like a restless child.

There's a very, very long pause and then a muttering of sobs. "You don't want, _us_?!"

"You've got to understand, I can't okay? I can't go there, please Louise." He utters.

I can't believe I'm hearing this, ear-wigging in their breakup conversation.

The sobbing stops eventually and is replaced by spite. "I don't believe you. You're hiding something and I know it George." She sniffs, "Just tell me."

There's an inch of silence which I suggest is the exchange of awkward eye contact and George wondering whether to tell her or not. Eventually he speaks.

"Fine, in all honesty – well Louise – there is another girl."

A rush of traffic outside the fence muffles what I consider was her squawking and George saying something else.

"So she doesn't know about me, or the fact that you like her?"

"No. She doesn't."

Deep down, I want to believe he's talking about me, but that would be un-likely considering the way he's been treating me lately. Heartbroken again.

When they start to get into deep conversation about "staying friends", I find time to creep away. When I'm out of the _danger zone_, I moap around town, collecting coffees and walking amongst the pigeons without a care.

To think of it, he must've travelled all the way from central London, just to see her. I bet she's even a dancer in my academy, 60% of the youngsters round here are likely to go there or similar.

He didn't visit me once during academy.

…

"Can you stop fucking running away like that Franks! It's driving me crazy." Andy moans just as I enter our apartment door.

I know he's trying to be angry, but he looks at me with empathy until I tumble into his arms and cry my soul out for no reason.

"Shh, it's okay. Shh." He sighs. "Tell me what's wrong honey."

We collapse into the ease of our second hand tartan sofa which me and Tillie had tried to make attractive, but hardly made a difference.

When I've finally stopped my weeping, he asks me again.

"I don't even know Andy. But it's getting worse every day."

"What's getting worse?" he asks.

"What do you think Andy?" I say with sarcasm. "And the worst thing is, don't hate me – but I saw him in the park today and eaves dropped. He's broken up with the girl, but he has another one on the go like disposable paper towels, I mean, what is his deal?"

He laughs at my pathetic simile which brightens my mood the slightest before returning to its original depression.

"Honey, haven't you thought that maybe you might be the girl he fancies?" He strokes a hair away from my forehead like a father would. "hmm?"

"That's absurd Andy. Why would he ignore me for the past month if he still had feelings for me?"

"Maybe you should ask him?" he says. But it's not Andy that says it. It's a rustic voice from behind me, a body I can't see. But I know who it is.

Andy replaces himself from my hug, and turns towards the door before leaving without a word.

"You must have a lot of questions?" he stammers, slowly making his way towards me.

I shuffle to the side of the sofa, allowing him the cushion next to me. I regret how small it is.

"Just to be clear" he says. "You're the only paper towel that I haven't disposed." A smile flicks across his face.

"So you just put me to the side for later?" I tease, slightly aggressively. I can't decide if I'm angry or sad.

"Please don't be like this." He says. "Look, surely you understand why I didn't want you seeing me in hospital, in agony?"

I nod.

"Yes, and then" he sighs. "Look I'm just going to be honest. I had been seeing _Louise_, for maybe two, three months now and it was going great but, I just couldn't get you out of my mind. You're like radar travelling through my body."

"And believe me, I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you every day, especially after hospital but I didn't think it was fair for Louise. I had to break it with her first and then I'd come and find you." He edges closer to me on the sofa. I hadn't realised I was leaning so close to him so that now we were almost nose to nose with each other.

"I know it was wrong" he continues in a whisper, staring into my pupils – "But I didn't know what else to do. And if you found out about Louise before I had broken up with her, well I just didn't want to lose you again."

This is crazy. I love him so much but it doesn't feel right to just let him enter my life as easy as that. But I want it. I want him in my life so much.

"Say something." He says softly.

I place my hand on his knee, gaze into his eyes which have whirl pooled into a mosh of green and brown and slight gold. He grins, dimples emerging in the crease, his nose wiggling and jaw tensing on my touch.

I was about to say how much I've missed him before he places a subtle finger on my mouth to shush me and presses his lips to mine like _rose petals_ on _skin_.

I smile into the kiss and let him take control. "I've missed you I murmur."


	22. Sequel - Chapter 6

For anonymous:

I chose the name Frankie because one of my closest friends is in love with George and her name is similar so it gave me the inspiration. And the curly hair is just because I love long wavy hair and thought it'd suit "Frankie" better than say straight and blonde. Not very interesting but I hope that answers your question

…

After the snog-athon, we slumped into a hug on the sofa, his arms round my waste and watched a repeat of "Millionaire Match Maker". I knew George couldn't stand it, but he didn't say anything.

"See what I don't understand" he says, "Is that you can tell the girls are usually disappointed with the man but they play along because of the money, yet Patti is oblivious to it all even though she's the most attentive." He eyes me for approval but I just look at him with a shrug,

"Ugh, am I not making any sense?" he sighs.

"No George, you're not." I say with a sarcastic smile at which he pecks a kiss on my lips.

"You're not using me for my money are you?" he nudges my side.

"And what if I am?" I tease.

"Well…" he grabs my waste and I end up underneath him, spread out on the sofa whilst he kisses my neck. "We'll have to sort that out."

I grab his back, feeling his bones and muscles and skin beneath. His body is throbbing hot, golden brown. His un-bandaged arm and abs flex through the polo shirt, veins pulsing below the skin. He's beautiful. Like a musky, hunk of man.

I scour the wounded arm with brusque fingers and he flinches a little. "Sorry" I murmur.

He shakes his head, resting his forehead on mine and closes his eyes. "It doesn't hurt." He whispers through panted breaths. "It's just strange to have your fingers on me again." - "And if it's any conciliation, this injury did bring me you."

I smile "Actually, I don't think the accident would've made a difference you know."

"You're trying to tell me that I broke all these bones for nothing?"

I nod and laugh a little.

"Well, you better be worth it." And with that, he lifts me up by clutching my outer thighs, resting my legs on his hips, kissing the lower of his bottom lip.

He carries me through the corridor and into my room, laying me amiably on the unmade bed.

He studies me and starts to kiss the different sections of my body, grasping my handles and caressing my lips.

His hands clutch my hipbones, kissing the bare skin below my belly button. They travel up and he goes to take my top off but I stop him and take hold of him.

He looks at me disorderly. "George, no." I say.

He sighs and pecks a kiss on my cheek. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, it's just so sudden."

"Sudden?"

"Yeah. Think about it – this morning I thought you'd decided that you wanted nothing more from me and that I'd probably never see you again unless we bumped into each other." – "And now, we're about to have sex. Like not that I wouldn't _like_ it. But it's just so, I don't know, I just don't want to rush things ok?" I look away from him sheepishly.

He takes my hands in his and kisses one. "You don't need to explain. But what made you think I was expecting sex anyway?" He grins.

I smile sarcastically with a shrug over his crude remark; meanwhile he lays down next to me on his side, my hand still in his. I turn to face him as he brushes a hair from my face and rubs my palm.

"So where exactly where you when you ear-wigged in mine and Louise's conversation today?" he torments.

I crease in shame, "Behind the tree…"

"What so you followed us round the park and hid behind it?"

"No, no, who do you think I am? I saw you before you actually started walking and you just happened to sit by the tree I was hiding behind."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe" he smirks creating dimples.

I pinch him playfully and murmur "_idiot_".

He leans onto his back and lifts his arms up to rest his head on. I rest mine on his heaving chest. "So you really find me that threatening?" he asks.

"When you haven't seen the person for weeks and they're arm in arm with some girl then _yes_, very threatening." He kisses my head, "And she was wearing bum shorts George, come on."

He sniggers – "I know, I know. I couldn't exactly say anything though could I?"

"You would've done if it were me." I say.

"Yeah, but she's not you. I know you have more respect than that."

I trace a pattern on his chest with my fingers and a part of his top folds over revealing a small, nail-like scratch. A thought flitters through my mind about if well, Louise and George had, gone _far_. It hadn't seemed like an option before but when he told me that they'd been dating for like 3 or 4 months, it was likely _something_ happened.

It would be inappropriate for me to ask, but I feel I need too.

I look up at him and kiss the bare patch of exposed chest above his polo, "George can I ask you something?"

His stares down at me and forms a little double chin, "anything."

"Well, I know it's a little terse, but, you and Louise did you like" – "How do I say this. Did you…"

"What?" he interrupts bashfully. "Have, _sexual intercourse_?" he states that last part with mockery.

I chortle "Yeah."

He pouts and does what seems to be a scan through his mind. "Well, we did _stuff_." He teases.

"George! Just spit it out."

"Fine, look, we didn't do anything." He flutters his eyes at me for conciliation - "She was very exact in outlining how she wasn't until we hit the 4 month boarder and had announced our "_relationship_" encase the announcement made everything more confusing." – "But I think she was getting rather impatient, like the night before the park, she was really persistent with me if you know what I mean. But I reminded her of our agreement and she backed off.

But I don't think I could've gone through with it anyway, I wasn't over you and I couldn't imagine doing something like that with anyone _but_ you. I think that was the push that made me come and find you."

I try to hide my smile. I know that any partner you have in your life after 18 is sort of 50% likely to have had sex before and George had (with Eliza). But I don't count her because she was a whore and he didn't exactly agree to it so I was fine with it. But the thought that he may have had a sexual partner in between the break up and now was distressing.

It doesn't feel right to know that he may have _seduced_ and _touched_ a girl like he did to me.

"Hey George…"

"Yes darling?" he says with a posh timbre.

"Do you mind if I have a shower?"

"No course, I'll be waiting."

"Thanks, but the locks broken so I don't expect you to come sneaking in for a wee ok?"

He smiles with dimples and makes a kind of salute with his hand.

….

The bathroom is full of steam by the time I get to the conditioner, my clothes hardly noticeable on the floor. Miguel is playing on the radio at a calm volume but loud enough for me not to hear George enter.

I squirm a little at his misty shadow behind the shower door. "George! What the fuck are you doing?!"

I open the door a little to peek my head round and he's just standing there in the fog, staring at me.

"You're making me really uncomfortable you know." I utter.

"Sorry" he says whilst lifting his shirt over his head – with struggle because of his arm. "But I just can't resist."

Then all at once, he swipes off his trackies, and his pants until he's stark naked. He's just how I remembered, bronzed, toned, smooth and seductive.

"So, can I join you?" he asks with his hands covering his _genitals._

I can hardly believe that he wants to have shower sex, after all we've been through and what I've just said. But I don't care anymore because I've wanted this for a while. So I nod with a blink and he makes his way towards me, into the misted shower.

…

I comb his now darkened hair back with my fingers so it replicates a sort of slicked back style and then move my hands down to his abs which are sprinkled with droplets of water.

Meanwhile, his fingers tiptoe down my spine until they hold my waste and he brings me close, kissing me passionately then, with a force, I'm hoisted up against the shower wall, him holding my hands above my head. Hair falls into our faces, trailing water down its roots but neither of us moves.

He starts to kiss my neck now and all the way down to the patch of skin under my breast.

When he comes up, his hands go down. They grab my under-bum and he lurches me up onto his hips, with my legs crosses behind his back for support.

He enters with satisfaction, holding the back of my neck and kissing my breast bone whilst compelling me up against the wall. I collapse into his body as he heaves, the shower water brushing our skin like speckled sand.

….

The morning comes, sunshine haloing the gap around the blinds. I squint at the mirage that lands on my bed and frames George's sleeping body. His chest is exposed, left arm imprinting a damp portrait where his bandage soaked up water.

His cheeks are flushed red underneath the tan and freckles line his nose.

He's a beautiful delusion - delusion in the way in which I still can't compel a reason why he chose me.

Then in a sudden, bile pinches my throat like a flame to a match, edging its way into my mouth.

…

George rubs circles into my bare back as the last of it escapes. I heave and heave until I can inhale again.

"I wish you didn't have to see that." I say through a pulsating head rush.

He perches next to me, his bum not touching the floor and balances a hand on my back. "No, seriously, I would rather be here helping you."

I look at him un-approvingly.

He sighs. "Seriously, it's not a big deal. I always looked out for my younger brothers and sisters when they were ill - and my mum when she had her _pregnancy_ sickness. It's fine really."

He's goes on about something else I don't hear. The only thing I do hear is him saying _pregnancy_. _Pregnancy_, over and over again.

I was due two days ago, and my periods were always on a hectic cycle so it's likely I was almost there. And to think of it, we _didn't_ use a condom. How _stupid_.

I was so caught up in the fantasy of it all, that I didn't think.

…

I could be pregnant, and George would be the father.


	23. Sequel - chapter 7

….

"Fran, Franks, can you hear me?"

Did George just say something? I can't hear anything over the melodramatic pulsing in my head.

"Are you going to be sick again?" he asks whilst rubbing my back. "Look at me please."

I shake my head no.

"What, no as in you _don't_ want to look because you're _going to be_ sick or no that you're _not_ going to be sick?" he asks through hurried breaths.

I shake my head again. "George, just shut up please." The throbbing is getting heavier. I don't know if it's because of the sickness or the shock that I might be pregnant.

If I am, it could be the end of my dancing career - the end of George's career. I'd have to be a housewife, George find a job and probably move into my house seeing as I have no siblings and a spare room.

What the fuck am I going to do?

"Frankie, I'm here for you, I always will be but I need to know how you're feeling."

_I will always be here for you._ Yeah, you say that now George.

"I feel… scared."

He nods his head next to me. "It's probably just a bug; you might feel a little shaken up for a while." He kisses my forehead softly. "I'll be right back. Stay here."

The way he says that makes me believe him. It could be that I'm just late and getting anxious about pregnancy. It was _stupid_ we didn't use protection, but that doesn't mean we definitely made a _baby_. Or a _zygote_, whatever it is right now.

I'm just over-reacting. I must be.

….

Later that day, when I feel better and my mouth doesn't taste like acid, George takes me to the park whilst the sun is still warm, carrying a portable radio.

I haven't told him about my pregnancy scare, just encase it damages him. I will tell him eventually though, even if I'm sure its fake but now's not the time.

He takes my hand in his as we sit down with the little radio on his lap. "You sure you're alright? You're still looking a bit pale." He asks stroking my palm.

I sigh but nod yes. "Just tired I guess."

He laughs at that. "Did I rock your world?" I know he's teasing but it wasn't something he would've usually said. I'm about to say something to object but his song _carry you_ interrupts me on the radio.

He gasps and puts a finger to his lips whilst he savours the moment, he mimes along to every solo and looks to me on his solo as if singing it to me.

I can't help but smile.

"You know, I wish I were more excited to go on tour." He murmurs into the wind.

"Why aren't you?" I ask.

"Because of you." He says, looking at me. "I don't know how I'll manage without seeing you every day." He almost smiles then kisses my palm.

"You managed for the past 3 months."

"Yeah, but I never stopped thinking about you."

I grin to myself. Same George, like you don't understand.

"And mal-sex might've contributed slightly too" he whispers with a teasing smile.

I know this shouldn't annoy me, but it does. Like if he hadn't been on such a sex-rage last night, then I wouldn't be having this pregnancy scare right now.

I sigh. "Does our relationship just run on sex for you or something?" I say a little too stubbornly.

He looks at me aghast as the wind picks up, jabbing my skin.

"No" he stutters quietly. "No," a little louder this time. "Of course not."

I don't look at him.

"I'm sorry, Frankie, really I am, I didn't mean it that way." He squeezes my hand tighter. "You do know I _would_ still be with you if there was no sex. It wouldn't even cross my mind to break up because of it."

I turn to him. "Sometimes, George, I literally just think you're in it for the sex."

"You're delusional," he lets go of my hand un-courteously. "That's utter _bull_ Frankie."

"Well it wouldn't surprise me" I sob.

"What's wrong with you today?" he says stubbornly.

I don't reply. There's no way I can explain the pregnancy and my un-explained anger. Maybe its hormones – I laugh a little to myself even though this isn't time for jokes.

He gets up. Looks down at me and shakes his head. "You need to cool down."

"Me? You're the one raving about _rocking my world_ all the time!" I object.

"See you around Frankie."

See you around? That's all he can say after he knocks me up? Well, may have knocked me up.

I don't even know.

Of course him getting me pregnant would be the end of everything for us, but I couldn't see my life without him either way. I know he wouldn't leave me because of a _baby_. Unlike the way he's leaving me right now…

"Wait!" I yell, but he's too far away to hear me. "George!" I get to my feet as quickly as possible, hobbling after him. "George!" I cry, I sound desperate.

He turns around just as my stomach lurches, pain shoots up my back and I throw up.

….

I'm bouncing. No - I'm swaying. Someone holds me, their arms under my legs, under my back. My mouth is sour, my shoulders stiff from the journey. I feel as though I've been frowning for a while as my forehead is tense but there are no creases.

I try to focus my eyes on the fogged body holding me, but they won't open far enough. I try to wiggle free, but pain in my lower back stops me. I wince out in agony.

"Hold on, we're almost home." A voice whispers. I think its George's but I can't be certain.

Traffic echoes in my head, throbbing through one ear and out the other. Busses rush by, their breaks sound like screaming girls. People barge past, scaling my feet and elbows. Cool wind pinching my neck.

"Oh god" a voice tremors "What happened to her?" I think its Tillie.

"She was sick this morning then again just now and passed out on the way down." He says. There's no emotion in his voice.

"Jheez, ok come in." She replies.

"I'd offer to carry her but I'm not exactly a bulky figure like yourself." Another voice cuts in. Must be Ryan considering the husky campness to his speech.

"It's ok, I've got her." George says. Then the warmth hugs me, I'm placed on the ugly tartan sofa, my head on something soft, pills which I consider are paracetamol are forced down my throat and then the world goes black as I fall asleep.

…..

The tv is blurring my hearing, it's too loud. Bile builds up in my throat. I struggle to lift my head up, holding my hands out in front of me preparing to be sick. A person behind me lifts a bucket onto my lap just in time for the puke volcano.

They rub my back too, the same as this morning – tugging my hair out of my face.

"George," I mumble, "Water."

He reaches down to the floor where a glass of water already sits. I cradle my abdomen which still hurts as if gargling for air.

What if I killed the baby that may have or may have not been there?

I sip the water and lean back to the sofa. It's apparent now that I was sleeping on George's lap. My neck aches from it.

"You were mumbling in your sleep." He says as Tillie comes in to take away the sick bucket.

"Mmm?" I reply.

"Yeah, you said something about not telling me." – "I wanted to wake you to ask, but you looked so… peaceful."

"It was probably a sort of nightmare" I lie. Well, this pregnancy _is_ a nightmare to be honest.

"Yeah I suppose." He sighs. "Remember, you can tell me anything if you need to."

I nod and try to smile.

He takes my hand and we sit in silence, watching a live preview of a festival on BBC3.

"Maybe you'll be there one day." I quote trying to chance the conversation.

"I hope so" he smiles into me and kisses my cheek. I admire his dimples and tousled hair.

A door opens and Tillie stands there with the bucket looking anxious. "Frankie, can I speak to you for a second?" She asks it so softly.

"I think she needs to rest." George interrupts feverously.

"I'm worried about her, George." She replies firmly.

I shake my head. "George, I'll be fine, really."

He raises his eyebrows at me in questionable approval.

Tillie rolls her eyes. "Give the girl some space eh?"

The tension between them is unbearable so I just nod. She smiles and gestures for George to leave the room.

I smile to him as he leaves to look at me and Tillie follows behind – her hair flies with each step.

"So baby, tell me how you're feeling." She takes roll of doctor whenever someone is ill even though she doesn't know much about the profession – but I let her try anyway.

"I'm fine right now; I think it's just a sick bug." I smile reassuringly.

She places a hand on my knee and the look she holds is worrying. "You can be honest with me." Is all she says.

"I am being honest." I murmur.

Is she insinuating that she knows that I could be pregnant? Or is she simply trying to play uplifting doctor?

She sighs. "Alright, but I'm pretty sure this isn't just a bug. Or if it is, you are hiding something underneath. I've known you long enough to recall that false smile you flash about when you're worried." She stares at me long enough for it to seep through my mind.

"Is it George being too clingy? You've been acting a bit awkward around him."

"No" I shake my head. "We had a small fight before I was sick again. He walked off."

"Oh" she stutters. "Well he seems alright now?"

I nod. "I think he feels sorry for me."

She leans off the sofa, ready to walk away. "Probably, well if you need anything just call me." she smiles encouragingly and floats away with her usual grace.

George hurries in after her and I smile alluringly. "Girl talk." I say.

I _will_ tell him soon, I tell myself. Tomorrow maybe. Soon.

George kisses my forehead. "You better get some rest." He carries me to my room, helps me into my pyjamas, wipes off my makeup, feeds me mouthwash as I'm too weak to brush my teeth and then he tucks me in. His musky smell drifts by as he soothes me to sleep and his green eyes turn into glass as sleep and love overtake me.


	24. Sequel - chapter 8

The morning came with another round of sickness. Pregnancy sickness, who knows? It had only just crossed my mind that I should probably take a test but that means concluding if I am in fact pregnant and the consequences of it. Mid-way voming, I realised that George hadn't come to my support and wasn't asleep next to me either.

And I almost didn't hear the sobbing over my projectile sickness until I had finished. It was coming from the bathroom. The door closed firmly but light seeping under it. It sounds like quiet, uncontrollable sobbing, that someone is trying to do slyly.

I wipe my face and knock on the door. The sobbing stops almost immediately. "George, you in there?"

There's silence followed by shuffling then a hoarse voice that would've sounded like struggled morning speech if not for the sobs. "Yeah, be out in a minute."

I don't know what to say. If I comfort him he might realise that I heard the cries. But I can't just let him go without making sure he's fine. I clear my throat. "I need to get in there; I think I might be sick again."

Silence follows again then I hear the lock slide open and a wave of hair pokes out the gap.

He tries to smile but I can see his discomfort and the puff of red around his eyes is hard to ignore. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and hobble over to the toilet to have pretend _queasiness_. He rubs my back and I scatter to my knees.

"When did you get up? I didn't hear you." I ask.

"Only half an hour ago." He treads a light pattern on my back with his index finger and thumb. "My mum called me and I didn't want to wake you so came here."

Staring into this empty toilet chamber is ironically making me feel nauseous. "Is she alright? It was an early phone call."

"No," he says, I wasn't expecting him to be straightforward. "My sister's in hospital. She says it's serious."

I gasp. "Oh, I'm so sorry George." I close the toilet seat and go to wash my hands as he sits on the closed lid. "What are you going to do?"

He shrugs. "I guess I should visit, I mean…" he corrects himself. "I want to visit but I don't get along with hospitals." He closes his eyes at the thought. "There's no way around it though. I think I'll leave this afternoon and come back in two days just encase she deteriorates."

Three days. I can't exactly tell him I might be pregnant now and send him on his way to his sick sister. But the thought of keeping it from him for another three days is a horrendous thought.

I just nod.

"Will you be alright by yourself? I could bring you along but it won't exactly be a positive family meeting." – "I'd rather you met my parents during a better time."

I laugh a little at his courteous remark. "George, of course I'll be fine. You've got your family to support and I've got my health to support too." I start to clean my teeth and he walks over to kiss me on my cheek, cradling my chin.

Of course he wouldn't kiss me on my lips because of the sickness but I miss it. Something inside me deflates a little.

…

"I'll be back soon." George hums into my ear as he frames my body in a hug. "Think of it as training for when I go on tour." I sense his smile.

I kiss his jaw where it meets his left ear. "See you soon, I love you."

"I love you too" he replies, lifting a green Ralph Lauren bag onto his shoulder and kissing my forehead one last time. I'm mesmerised by his depressant mood but un-desirable need to comfort me even though I should be comforting him.

The cab drives off leaving me George-less and possibly pregnant for another three days.

I run inside as clouds gather above me with an eerie grey. "Tillie" I shout out into our early evening apartment. "I need to talk to you."

…

"So you think you're knocked up?" she gasps, hair falling into her face uncontrollably.

I nod, my fingers rubbing my temples numbly.

"Well first of all you need to take a test and second of all you need to tell George."

I sigh. "Tillie, I'm not taking a test until I've told George because if I am pregnant, he'd never forgive me for knowing properly before him."

"But you can't mope around here for the next few days thinking you may or may not be. It's not healthy." She demands.

I butt in feverously. "Yes, but I'm not going to tell him over the phone and I'm definitely not going to travel to Bristol to tell him either."

She rolls her eyes as usual. "Frankie, I love you and all and I'm here to support you if you are preggers, but you can't do this to yourself."

"Well thank you but you can't change my mind. I'm waiting for him to get back. It's unfair if I don't."

She shakes her head and comes to sit next to me. "Fine, just please let it down gently, I can't be full time mum if he can't take role of dad." She giggles at that.

A smile edges on my face. "You'd make a wonderful dad." I joke.

…

The morning that George is meant to come back, I'm not sick. I have abdominal cramps that feel like period pains, but no period and a ghastly head-ache.

Tillie researched everything to know about premature pregnancy (being the inspired doctor she is) and apparently _no_ morning sickness is normal, but she did suggest that maybe it was a false alarm and I just had a sick bug. Regardless, something feels different. My emotions are stronger and my stomach feels fuller (even though it's impossible to actually feel a baby bump after a few days) but there's something.

Maybe I had too big of a breakfast.

At least I can find out today – that is if George doesn't flip and decides he wants nothing to do with me – then I might end up taking the test tomorrow so he can calm down.

I cringe with pain in my lower back again. I hadn't felt it much yesterday but a bruise came through this morning, must've been a rough landing that day I fell.

I wonder where we'd be now if I hadn't thrown up un-consciously. Would we still be fighting or would I be comforting him whilst he worried about his sister? Either way, this situation is probably better. I'll have time to talk to him; we'll get through it together.

….

The bell rings at 8:11pm (I took account the time because he was already 41 minutes late) but Tillie gives me a reassuring grin. I run to the door, swing it open and prepare myself to fall into George's arms but I see a different face instead.

I see a chizzled, dark-haired Irishman whom I haven't seen since he helped re-unite me and George before he almost broke us apart.

His smile is edged deeply into his face – his arms inexplicably wide apart, a travel bag hanging off his back. When he sees my injured surprise – his grin falls.

"Kian?" I whisper. "What are you doing here?"

It's not that I mind seeing Kian, I've missed him obviously. But this is the night I talk to George. There's no way in god's name that I can have that discussion with him now. And he didn't mention anything about visiting.

"Surprise" he slurs without obvious enthusiasm. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have just turned up un-announced."

I snap out of my daze - hospitality Frankie. "No" I request. "No of course not, it's great that you're here – I was just, shocked. That's all." I lean in for a well-needed hug.

His body tenses then falls. "It's great seeing you too."

I've missed his accent, I admit.

"What brings you here then?" I ask.

"Business" he replies with a laugh. "No, I'm staying with family for a while, so I can find work. But they're not back until tomorrow and I needed to get out of the house so thought I'd come to you."

I smile. "It's nice to see you. But I'm afraid you'll have to sleep on our ugly couch." I laugh and he along with me.

We chat for a few hours. I try not to worry about how late it's getting and how long it's taking for George to come back seeing as I should be concentrating on Kian's excitable journey here – he thinks he's in love with a girl he met on a train. But I can't help it, the minutes pass slower, my eyes get heavier. Soon it's 11pm and Kian is noshed out asleep on the sofa.

I attempt to explain to Tillie and Ryan why he's here and why I now have to leave it another day to tell George.

Tillies not happy.

But there's nothing I can do anyway, he's not even back. I should probably call him but I'm worried that he might be driving, or held up and I could just make things worse.

…

I tuck Kian in with a spare blanket and fall graciously into my own bed.

During the middle of the night, my phone rings. I almost didn't hear it because of that deep paralytic sleep you fall into after only a few hours. It's George though so I pick up.

"Hi, sorry to wake you." He whispers. "But I'm outside."

I go to answer the door, my eyes barely open. He hugs me immediately; his eyes full of fatigue and passion. "How've you been?"

I kiss his cheek. "Haven't been sick in over twenty four hours, so doing good." _Except for the baby _I think to myself.

"That's good" he smiles - "Means I can kiss you on the lips now. But maybe I'll wait until tomorrow."

"Nice idea," I laugh. "How's your sister doing?"

"She's ok. She's recovering, anyway. I think she'll be fine."

I grab his hand and lead him to the bedroom. _Not in that way._

I'm just tired.

He watches me take off my dressing gown where I just wear underwear and a baggy top. His eyes suggest to me what he wants and if I were in that mood and not worrying over conception, then I would go there.

I crawl onto the bed and lay the side of my face and arm on his bare chest. He draws swirls on my shoulder with his hand. "You look beautiful today. Glowing. You must've recovered well." He coos into my hair.

"I don't know about that. Recon I give it until the morning just encase."

"Good call. But hey I want to spend as much time with you as possible these next few days. You know I'm leaving on Sunday."

_That's in five days_. I hadn't realised It was so soon.

"How long are you gone?" I ask quietly through exhaustion.

"A month," he yawns, stroking my hair. "Then back for two weeks, then on tour."

Tour is six months. I can tell this is going to be hard.

"I don't know what I'll do without you. In all seriousness." I sob.

He kisses my forehead as usual when he's comforting me. "I know, I don't know what I'll do without you either."

We lay in a silence for a while, fiddling with each other's hands, him playing with my hair, me tracing patterns on his chest. I will really miss this. Of course there'll be breaks during tour but that's not enough time together.

"Oh" I say sheepishly. "I forgot to tell you, Kian – he turned up last night. He's only staying until tomorrow though." Gracious Kian, always knows how to make things awkward. "Thought I'd tell you before I forget."

"Oh" he says. I can tell he's uncomfortable with the idea. "When did you invite him?"

"I didn't" I whisper through sleep. "He needed to get away for a night. I said it would be ok."

His hand stops trailing on my shoulder. "Ok, guess I'll see him tomorrow then."

It's not as if George and Kian are enemies, but they didn't have a smooth time getting along at the studios. I'm surprised Kian actually turned up considering – it's not like him to purposely walk into a situation like this. Maybe I'll ask him tomorrow.

I would reply to George, but there's nothing to say so I just kiss his belly and fall asleep again.


	25. Sequel - Chapter 9

Some hot oil from the pan in which I fry eggs splashes onto my wrist and I flinch. I'm cooking five eggs, two for George, two for Kian and one for me. It feels like I'm playing them both at the same time somehow, keeping them as fugitives in my home but not telling either one. Could make a good movie I suppose.

Some more oil pinches me so I back away a bit which helps me see out the kitchen door and through to the living area. Kian's still fast asleep on our fool of a sofa. I recon, if our sofa were a person, it would be a chubby old Scottish man (because of the tartan) who ironically speaking - hates intimacy. Maybe we could rip off the kilt fabric one day and cover it with new fabric. I'm sure it'd make a hell of a difference if you ignore the lumps and holes in the under coat.

Once I've finished buttering the toast, I take a plate first into my room where George looks completely un-conscious which I don't blame him for seeing as he's only had about 6 hours sleep so far – and peck a kiss on his cheek. "Morning" I whisper into his early morning smile. His eyes are still closed but he manages a small groan of "hello."

"I've got you breakfast." I say as quietly as possible and open the curtains slightly.

It's a lovely day, the first glimpse of summer I guess looking at a clear sky with a yellow sheen around the edges where the sun's just been. Everything feels good.

"What's the time?" George murmurs, eyes now squinting at the sunlight.

"Nine." I reply. Far too early for my usual wake up but I couldn't get back to sleep. My mind was harassing me and I could just hear Tillies voice in my head – _you've got to tell him._

"How are you up so early?" he rolls onto his side and I see his body relax once he's found a different comfortable position.

I decide not to explain encase he worries about _problems_. So I just place his egg on the table near his face and give him another peck before leaving. He's surely too tired to chase me out of the room.

….

When I'm back in the living room, Kian's awake and restlessly struggling about on the sofa – no doubt he's aching all over. "I told you it'd be uncomfortable" I boast.

"I think the word _uncomfortable_ was a bit over-rated." He moans with a grin.

I laugh and grab his plate from the kitchen.

"How did you know I like egg on toast?" he asks a bit too enthusiastically.

"I did technically live with you for two months of my life. I _should_ know."

He takes the plate from my hand and we sit. "That is a good point. I'd be upset if you didn't."

We eat.

"So, what family are you staying with?" I ask.

He swallows a mouthful then replies. "My Uncle Peter, he only lives a half hour away. Got quite a big house too so he was more than happy to have me."

I fiddle with my egg. I'm not that hungry anymore. I feel… queasy.

"Can you… excuse me – for a moment?" I run, no waddle, I don't want to encourage sickness - to the bathroom. This morning's food fuels the beauty of my vom. Just brilliant.

But I suppose it's better than that weird acidic bile that sometimes comes up when you haven't eaten. That's the worst kind of sickness.

A hand melts into my back, it stays there – doesn't circle. At first I think its George, well I would because he's the only person recently who comforts me when I'm sick except for the odd day when he was gone and Ryan was there. But the Irish brogue gives it away "That's it, get it all out." He says.

I shake my head. "I don't want you to see this."

He laughs awkwardly. "It's a natural thing, no biggie."

I'm mid-way sighing when a raucous morning voice breaks through – "I can deal with this." George says. "She _is_ my _girlfriend_ anyway." I can tell he adds influence on "girlfriend" to tug on Kian's nerves. I'm the girl that got away and ran into George's arms – it's something that could hurt him.

Kians hand is swiftly removed from my back. I only expect him to leave the bathroom with an apology but he doesn't – he stands up from his once crouched position and stays put. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he snaps.

I definitely _didn't_ expect that.

"I thought you would've had the sex talk by now." George replies sternly.

"George!" I break in irately. "We did _not_ have sex last night."

He looks at me suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed whereas Kian just glares at George, his features strict.

"I _mean_, that he obviously doesn't understand that I have every right to sleep in the same bed as you." George replies with brag.

Kian ignores that remark and turns to face the distance between us. His voice is angry but sensitive at the same time. "Frankie – how can you just run back into his arms so easily? It's been what, two weeks?"

"Two weeks, what are you talking about?" I squint upwards at the bathroom light haloing his hair piercingly.

He goes to talk but I interrupt stubbornly –"Actually, I don't want to know. So can you both just get out, I can't be dealing with this."

Kian stares at me aghast but leaves when I don't return eye contact. George on the other hand scowls open-mouthed at me. "What the fuck have _I_ done?"

I shake my head, "I've just been sick and I would appreciate if you two had your little spat outside."

I'm not going to tell him that he's actually pissed me off by being his usual stubborn self. Well he's not actually stubborn-natured but when it comes to me and protectiveness, he's a stubborn ass. He leaves anyhow.

….

I've cleaned up, the sink stained with mouthwash. I stare at myself in the mirror, ashamed at what I see. My eyes are blotchy and red from the silent crying I did when I had privacy and my hair is almost at dreadlock stage, a thin layer of sweat lines my forehead.

I don't know why I started crying to be honest. My mind screams _hormones_. But I still refuse the pregnancy until I've taken a test. Maybe it's because I feel guilty for leading Kian on during x-factor and then disposing of him like no other. Or maybe it's because I invited him into my home where my boyfriend who borderline hates him is staying also.

It's just one of those female things I guess. I make myself leave the bathroom.

I hear the front door slam shut and see a wing of Tillies hair then a faint car exhaust. She must be with Ryan because she can't drive. We must've woken them up with the fighting.

Then I expect to hear shouts and stomps or at least a bit of angry chatter but no, it's silent which is even more irritating. When I come into the living room, they're both sitting at the dining table, George has his head in his hands – he looks exhausted and Kian just sits, staring out the window. They both look to me when I come in. They look hurt.

George stands up and strolls towards me. He looks so effortlessly handsome today with his knee length baggy pants, no shirt and scraggly morning hair. He takes my hand and kisses my cheek, the part under my ear where I usually kiss him – then leaves the room.

My instinct is to sit opposite Kian, so I do.

"I'm so sorry Frankie" he says before I even sit down, still looking out the window at an almost mid-day sun. "I shouldn't have come but I didn't know."

I wait for him to say more but he doesn't. "Kian, can you expand that please because I still have no idea what you're talking about."

He sighs and looks at me. "I read a magazine a few weeks ago which said that George had broken up with you because he wanted a more celebrity associated girlfriend."

I gasp at his stupidity.

"And me being the idiot I am, believed it."

I smile a little. Seeing George this morning must've been a big shock then. "Seriously Kian, how could you believe it straight away? You could've at least called me to make sure."

He shrugs. "I suppose, but we hadn't spoken in a while. You realise how weird it would be if I only called you to understand if you and your boyfriend had broken up - like nothing else mattered."

It takes me a while but I nod. He has a point. "Still, it would've been nice for you to second it with me."

"Yeah but to think that I turn up here a week later. I wouldn't want you to think that I'm threatened by any boy you're related with - or that I'll only talk to you when they're gone, if you know what I mean."

I nod again but a thought flashes to mind. What if Kian only came here because he knew I was single and thought he could get with me? I don't like the thought of being used like that, especially with Kian, someone I trust so well.

I take a while to digest it.

"Anyway are you ok? You might want to go back to bed encase you're sick again." He says.

I ignore it, there's no point lying to him but there's also no point bringing up my possible pregnancy. "Kian, can you be honest with me." The room gets greyer – clouds have fogged over the once bright sky.

"Yeah, yes." He replies.

"Did you only – did you only come here because you thought you had, a _chance_ with me?"

His voice crackles and a false sound comes out. Then he pauses. "No. No of course not, I was worried about you if anything."

I don't believe him. I shake my head.

"Frankie…"

"I think you should go." My voice is almost a whisper.

"No" he demands. "No, I'm not lying to you."

"You _should_ go." I shout this time. "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean you can ignore me and _use_ me." And again louder.

He tries to take my hand but I shove it away and stand up violently, knocking my chair to the floor with aggression. George runs in red faced. "What's going on?" he demands.

"Kian was just leaving." I murmur.

If George wasn't here – I'm sure he would disagree but this time he leaves, taking his half packed bag with him, shoving floor-scattered clothes into it promptly. I flinch when the front door shuts.

"What was that all about?" George demands. I'd think he was still angry with me from this morning if his eyes weren't full of compassion. The anger must be for Kian.

I stand up and wrap my arms around his neck, hiding my head in his chest, he moves my hair out of my face softly - "nothing to worry about" I utter.

"You can tell me" he talks into my forehead quietly.

"Really, it's no big deal. We just had a disagreement." I sigh. "I'll call him tomorrow." As much as I want to discuss the decorum of Kians behaviour with someone – George definitely isn't the person.

He moves his hands from my lower back to my shoulders and lightly pushes me away so he can see me. "Frankie, you knocked a blooming chair over – something obviously upset you."

Stubborn George is coming out to play. "Can we let it go please." I place the back of my hand on his cheek to settle his nerve. It doesn't work, he shakes it off.

"Tell me Frankie." He looks at me sternly like a tenacious father would, not a boyfriend. "Or would you rather I chased down Kian and asked him instead."

"There's really no stopping you is there?" I rage.

"The more you refuse to tell me, the more concerned I become so there's obviously something you don't want to say." I'm about to reply with something sarcastic like _yeah so you should leave it._ But he talks up again."I'm your boyfriend, I thought you trusted me?"

I do trust you George – is what I should say. But I can't bring myself to because then I would have no other option but to tell him. I turn to leave instead. He grabs my wrist, it hurts a little.

"What on earth are you doing?" I moan.

"I'm not going to ask again." His stare scares me. He looks broken, detached from his actual body. Maybe I should just admit it, but I'm worried what he'll do to Kian.

I keep my stare on his. "Fine" I just realise I'd been holding my breath, I pant quickly. "But promise me you won't do anything stupid."

He lets go of my wrist and stands with his hands in a shrug. "You never told me if you trusted me, but you should."

I nod. I do trust you. "Ok, so, you know how Kian thought we had broken up?" I ask.

He nods yes.

"Well, we were talking and I just had a realisation of – well I thought that maybe, he only came to see me, so that he could try it on with me."

George's hands turn into fists, then release to normal again.

"He denied it but I don't know. It hurt me because he hadn't visited since Xfactor but then out of nowhere he came over and I felt like it was because of us."

George doesn't reply, he looks past my shoulder and his brows crease inwards. "That little bastard!"

My insides deflate. I told him not to be stupid about this. "George, it's not a big deal. I was angry then but I'm fine now." I step towards him. "Please just, leave it."

"Why are you defending him?!" He asks furiously.

"Because it's not a big deal!" I yell.

He places a hand to his forehead. "This _guy_ is trying to use you! He only visited so he could get it on with you!"

"It's not like that! He was probably telling the truth. I just had a suspicion, so there's no telling if it's true or not."

"I don't care. It's obvious he's had a thing for you for a while now and I know how a man's mind works." He turns away from me. I think he's about to leave. "It's disgusting!"

"You are outrageous!" I demand. "You don't know how _his_ mind works."

George turns around, shock painted on his face. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd say that you fancied him. And you know what? I'm starting to believe it."

The words come out of my mouth before I can anticipate them. "That's funny considering I'm carrying your baby!"

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shithhithit.

I'm afraid to look at him. But I do.

His mouth is open again – his eyes look murky, face frowning. He's pouting like a fish, about to say something but then nothing comes out. This happens for a while.

"You" he pauses. "You're wha-at." There's a gurgling in his throat which sounds like a sore throat symptom. "What?"

My head pounds, I feel tears forming under my lids and my hands are unbelievable clammy. "I don't know." I say uneasily.

"What do you mean you don't know?" he barks then collapses into the chair I was sitting in before. His face is pale. "You're either pregnant or you're not!"

I didn't mean to admit it, but his reaction unsettles me. It angers me. "I haven't taken a test but the symptoms are _all_ there!"

He gasps with no sound. "Well why the fuck haven't you taken a test?!"

"Don't start blaming this on me! It's a two person job and it's your fault for pouncing on me in the shower without a fucking condom!"

He mutters _fuck_ under his breathe. "Couldn't you have taken the morning after pill?"

"Probably" I shrug angrily. "But it wasn't the first thing that came to mind."

I join him at the table. He has his head in his hands again. "How long have you _known_?"

"About a week. Well the sickness started the morning after so I considered it but when the sickness came back – I felt more certain." He breathes out heavily through his nose. "And my period hasn't come yet, I've been due for a while."

Beads of sweat tickle his forehead.

"It's been a whole week Frankie! Why didn't you tell me?" he's angry again.

"Well you've been away for four days of them and then Kian came. It's – there's never been a good opportunity. I'm sorry."

"I can't believe it. You _find_ an opportunity Frankie. It's not that hard!"

I grit my teeth, he runs a hand through his hair – the sun reflects it gold.

"Oh you think so?!" I scream. "It's that bloody easy?"

He shakes his head, getting up from his chair. It yells against the floor. I have an urge to trip him on his way up but hug him at the same time.

I don't question where he's going – I know. The door slams in my face for the third time today, an eerie breeze follows through.

There goes the father of my child again, and I'm pretty sure he's not coming back this time.


End file.
